Hounds and Jackals
by WEast
Summary: New York is finally back on its feet, and Fury has decided it's time to learn more about Coulson's mysterious young friend. She doesn't approve. As she and her true identity try to evade SHIELD's eye, other things start to surface. Things SHIELD regrets getting involved in. And of course, the Avengers just can't mind their own business. *Sequel to Who is This Girl?*
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Welcome to Hounds and Jackals, the sequel to Who is This Girl? If you haven't read that, this won't make any sense, so it might be a good idea to go and check that out first. If you have read WiTG, hi again! Sorry for the slight delay, but I hope you enjoy the start to this second story. It's very short, but the next ones are longer.**

 **Oh and just a note: Hounds and Jackals is an ancient Egyptian game where two players race, get rewards and avoid penalties, and try to capture each other's pieces in order to win. It's a game of luck and skill.**

 **Have fun, and please leave comments!**

It was strange to hear music coming from a cemetery. Not loud, but still audible, the notes spread out over the tombstones, filling the air with a slightly wistful but compelling tune. In the back left corner of the plain, a girl stood silently in front of a relatively new grave. Grass had already grown over the packed earth, but the plot was still obviously recent. The stone was clean and glossy, free of moss and fingerprints, and the residue of rain. The name stood out clear against its marble backdrop.

There was no apparent source for the music, although it seemed to be coming from the girl. If one listened closer, however, there did seem to be a source- a thin, metallic silver bracelet grasped in the girl's hands. Completely non-descript, the bracelet matched the girl, wrapped in a plain grey sleeveless dress. The only notable feature rested in her hair, long golden locks laced with flecks of glitter that a passerby would assume came from a sprayable can.

The song continued on, the singer's light voice speaking of old cities full of tombstones and the necessity of chasing the sun. A fitting song for a graveyard. At last, it drew to a close, the woman's final words fading into silence. Without a word, the girl slipped the bracelet onto her wrist. She made to take a step forward, then paused. After a slight stutter, she nodded to the tombstone and spun on her heel. With the grace of a dancer, she wound through the grave markers, occasionally resting a hand against one as if saying hello to a friend. With a final pat, she reached the cemetery's gate. The archway rose high above her, the wrought iron twisting through and around itself. She passed a solemn glance at the heart on the top of the arch before sweeping her gaze over the marble blocks one last time. Still silent, she stepped out, dissolving into mist as soon as she touched the street.

At the top of the arch, a tiny black dot lay innocently imbedded in the heart. And in a SHIELD building in Tennessee, Fury crossed his arms and narrowed his eye, considering the feed from a cemetery in New York.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dying involves certain complications, especially for those who survive it_ , Coulson thought as he sat in Fury's office, listening as he tediously went over everything that had transpired at SHIELD while Coulson was in Tahiti. They'd already gone over the basics of the past few months, the rebuilding of New York (now almost completely finished), and the new procedures Fury had put in place when dealing with alien artifacts. Although he presented an alert and concentrated mask, Coulson kept finding his gaze wandering around the room or his mind jumping on a random idea and hijacking it. In fact, he was just contemplating the likelihood of Fury ever wearing an eye patch in a color other than black when something Fury had said registered. Immediately, he put the brakes on his train of thought, shaking himself back to the present situation.

"What was that, sir?" Comfortably settled into his leather swivel behind the desk, Fury paused in his speech. With a slight sigh, he backtracked.

"I said, because of your deceased status to all personnel under level 7, you are not to have any contact with people from your past." Thinking on that, Coulson's eyebrows furrowed.

"No one, sir? Not even the Avengers?"

"Are they over level 7, Agent Coulson?"

"No, sir."

"Then you have your answer." Coulson nodded slowly. Then, with a short intake of breath, he remembered. What about Waverly? Would she know what had happened? No, she wouldn't… except, he realized, she knew Tony. The genius would have told her what happened when she visited. But, he realized, _Fury_ didn't know about Waverly. He could still tell her that he hadn't died- Fury's voice brought him back again, his words sending a jolt through his system.

"Coulson, I should tell you that after your 'death', we cleared out your apartment." His head jerked up, a chill suddenly dancing through his body.

"Oh?"

"Yes." Fury's eye focused on him with the intensity of a laser. "We found a box in your closet." Coulson's mind instantly filled with a numbing fog, his training the only thing overcoming the panic alarms ringing in his head. Oblivious, Fury leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Now, forgive me if I intruded, but I tend to look at things addressed to me. And I'm glad I did."

"Oh, sir?" Coulson managed, hands clenched on his armrests as he tried to remain casual.

"Yes. Waverly is quite an interesting girl. But you knew that, didn't you." It wasn't phrased as a question. Coulson seemed to have lost the ability to make facial expressions, but Fury didn't bother to wait for a reply. "In fact, I'd say you knew a lot more than that, considering her reaction when I told her you were dead." Coulson's heart stopped. Fury had talked to Waverly. He'd met her. He _knew_ about her. And Waverly thought Coulson was dead. Oh, God, what had happened? Steeling himself, Coulson met Fury's eye.

"You… met her, sir?" Coulson asked. Fury's face gave nothing away.

"I did."

Coulson swallowed. "How?"

Fury cocked a brow. "I walked up to her in Central Park." At this, Coulson stared at the other man, face blank as his mind tried to figure out what the phrase meant. Had Fury had armed guards with him? An extraction team? Chuck Norris and an air rifle? What was the context? The thoughts whirled around in a storm until finally, Fury seemed to have had enough of the silence. "Agent Coulson, I didn't bring her in." Coulson stared at him, wide-eyed. "In fact, I did just as you'd asked me, with a few exceptions."

"Like what?"

"Well, I had to learn more about Miss East. Believe it or not, your word is not enough for me to go on when analyzing a threat." Coulson winced at the wording.

"So what did you do?

"I found her. With all the security cameras in New York, it wasn't difficult. Then, we had a nice chat. I also found footage of her during the Battle of New York." At this, Coulson frowned.

"What do you mean? I never told her to come in. Loki happened before I got the chance."

"Maybe so, but the invasion was rather hard to miss. She probably just listened to the nearest television. But she was there." Fury fixed Coulson with a look. "That was actually one of the main things that convinced me not to apprehend her. The way she was fighting-" he broke off with a shake of the head and a whistle. "You only get that with a few people in the world. The ones with the drive to protect. I don't know where you found her, Coulson, but I hope they have a lot more like her."

"So," Coulson said, his breath coming easier now, "where is she now?"

"I have no idea. She didn't give an address."

"But- you didn't track her?"

"No. If she's the kind of person I think she is, she'll find us if we need her." Thinking back to the time he'd seen her fight a troll in Ireland, Coulson couldn't help agreeing. "However." And there it was, Coulson mentally sighed. The inevitable catch. "I did catch her visiting the cemetery we buried you in and I saw something rather interesting. I would like to get a better read on her powers. "

"And how do you plan to do that, sir?"

"I want to arrange a play date. Can you help me get in touch?" And though Coulson desperately wanted to say no, as he stared into Fury's harsh gaze, it was clear that wasn't an option.

 **AN: Sorry for the delay. Among other things, I've been trying to actually do summer work before the one-week warning, and it's been taking up time. I've also been doing more fun stuff, too... Ahem.**

 **On another note, Fury can't leave well enough alone, can he? Yup, we're looking at some confrontation. What do you think he's planning? Tell me your ideas!**

 **Finally, and THIS IS IMPORTANT: starting next week, I will be working as a counselor-in-training at my summer camp for four weeks. It's going to be a really fun experience, especially since most of the first two weeks will be spent in the western US, in places like Zion and the Grand Canyon. I can't wait, as it will be my first trip out there, but unfortunately I will have absolutely no internet access. So, that means no updates. I'm really sorry, but I will try to get one more chapter up before I leave, and if not, look for it as soon as I get back.**

 **Please review, and Question: If you could redecorate Fury's eye patch and take a picture, what would you do?**


	3. Chapter 3

Thor wasn't quite sure why Fury wanted him to challenge a young mortal to a duel in middle of Central Park, nor why he had pulled a favor in order to cordon off the entire park and place agents around it to keep civilians out. However, he was glad of the opportunity to use his skills. Even though he had returned to Midgard for only a short time, he'd grown bored with Stark's rules for behavior in the Avengers tower. He'd barely been allowed to swing his hammer, much less have a proper fight with actual opponents. Apparently, Stark had yet to finish the training room for the Avengers, leaving no place for Thor to hone his skills.

Now, though, Fury had specifically asked him to challenge someone, a mortal girl that he said possessed superior combat skills, as well as a special gift. Thor was supposed to make her use them. He couldn't wait.

* * *

The thunder god strode purposefully down the broad expanse of West Drive, drawing nearer to the Sheep Meadow of Central Park, a wide-open stretch of grass where Fury was certain the maiden would be. Turning onto the green, he swept his eyes over it for a sign of his opponent. The plain was almost unnaturally silent, devoid of people due to SHIELD's efforts. The high sun seemed to bleach the grass to the color of butter and lime.

Thor strolled forward, muscles relaxed and hammer swinging easily at his side. Peering around, his eye soon caught a flash of color tucked behind a small hillock, almost hidden among the grass that was so different from the gold and gray streets of Asgard. A smile broke out on Thor's face as he strode eagerly toward it.

As he drew closer, the blob of color separated into the distinct form of a girl clad in blue cropped leggings and a chocolaty three-quarter sleeve shirt. Hair spread over the grass like strands of pale spaghetti, the mortal seemed completely at ease as she relaxed under the sun-warmed sky. Her face calm, she looked to be asleep.

Thor adjusted his grip on his hammer, puffed up his chest and set his chin in his most manly manner. Breathing deeply through his nose, the Asgardian spoke. "Hail, young mortal!"

The maiden's eyes flashed open and fixed on him in an instant, clear and alert. They swept across him then focused on his face. The orbs showed nothing but a diamond-tough hardness, a mask to cover thoughts and emotions. After a moment of silence, the girl raised her eyebrows. "What is it?"

Thor puffed up even more, the picture of a divine champion. "I have heard of your skill as a warrior. I wish to test myself against you in a duel."

The mortal passed a second, judging look over Thor. Finally, she asked, "Why?" The god hefted his hammer, striking a dramatic stance.

"I am Thor, son of Odin, heir to the throne of Asgard, defender of the Nine Realms. I would battle you for victory and glory, and to prove my worth." Her brow creased, a small spark lighting her eyes. Then the girl sighed, letting her eyes slip closed as she turned her face back to the sun.

"I don't feel like fighting right now."

Thor paused, confusion radiating from him in waves. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm good right now. Thanks for the offer, though." The god's hammer dropped to his side, and his whole body deflated. When he next spoke, his voice was a childish whine. "But- why not?"

"Because," the girl answered. "It's a nice day, and I want to take it in while I can. I haven't been here in a while." Her face saddened almost imperceptibly. "A long while," she added in a murmur.

Thor, however, wasn't ready to leave. "But, don't you want to test yourself against me?"

The girl shook her head. "Not really, no. I've had a busy week." Thor gaped at her.

"But- I'm Thor. Son of Odin?" At this, the girl finally opened her eyes, squinting up at him.

"The Norse guy?"

"Yes," he squeaked, feeling quite insulted. She hmmed, and he felt compelled to defend himself. "Do you not know me? I aided your government in the battle against the Chitauri." Those seemed to be the magic words, as the young mortal's eyes snapped fully open and she shot upright. Thor blinked at the intensity of the now-standing girl. Her eyes bored into him.

"You were an Avenger? With SHIELD?" Speechless at the sudden change, Thor nodded. The girl stared at him, mind obviously moving a thousand miles per hour. She half turned away, mouth working as she whispered to herself. Finally, she gave her head a shake, shoulders slouching in an evident conclusion. When she turned back to Thor, there was a knowing look on her face. "Well, can't say I wasn't expecting it, although I thought they'd take longer." At Thor's frown, she held up a hand. "SHIELD wants to see what I can do, right?" She didn't even wait for an answer before nodding. "I'm surprised they even waited this long to send someone after me. _Agencies_." She considered the burly man in front of her with a contemptuous squint. The corner of her mouth twitched up a hair's breath. Finally, she shrugged. "Fine. Why not? It's got to happen sometime." She lunged.

* * *

To be honest, Thor hadn't expected much of a challenge. After all, this was Midgard, a place where the number of true threats was outnumbered by people interested in swimming in sewage tanks. Thor was an Asgardian and a prince, with the power of storms at his command. On this planet, he was unbeatable.

Yet, this mortal was definitely giving him a run for his money.

At first, he hadn't even realised the duel had begun. The girl had struck swiftly, darting towards him and leaping away with such speed it hadn't occurred to him that she could have landed a blow. Clearly she had, judging by the pain in his shin. With a roar, he cut Mjolnir in a sweeping arc, forcing the girl to roll backwards. He followed with a lunge, attempting to slam his hammer into the ground. Before the fight, he had promised himself that he would go easy on the mortal. Now, all thoughts of holding back flew, and the hammer came down with the weight of worlds. It didn't matter. His opponent wasn't under it. She ducked under his arm before it covered half the distance and landed in a defensive position a few feet behind him. He whipped around, judging her with a new lens. Under his gaze, she pulled a silver and bronze ring off her left finger. She clutched it and squeezed, and a glimmering sword grew in her hand. His eyes narrowed. Thor threw himself forward and the girl spun around the battering ram of his body, the butt of her sword glancing off his back. As he whirled, her weapon met his hammer, just enough to change the angle of his blow away from her. The thunder god struck once more, and this time the force drove her backwards across the grassy plain. She slammed into the ground. Before he could take advantage, the girl-warrior rolled head over heels, pushing up on her hands to finish standing. She charged at Thor. He lunged to meet her, and she vaulted over him, dropping to the ground behind him and sweeping the flat side of her blade into his left leg. Thor grunted at the sudden stinging pain and the inevitability of a bruise. He swung his hammer without thinking. It whistled through the air, missing the mortal by a foot or more. He tried to recover from the horrible attempt, and as he did, the girl rammed him with her shoulder. Immediately, it was clear that had done more damage to her than him. She backed away, rubbing her shoulder and scowling. With a grin, Thor attacked, and the girl was forced to dodge.

As the battle continued, his mind on the sole thought of triumph, Thor barely noticed a high-pitched, ear-splitting beep break the air. He did, however, see the girl-warrior's face drain of color faster than a trip through the Bifrost. She tried to glance at her wrist, but Mjolnir thundered toward her. His eyes on her face, Thor saw the snap decision happen. With a single motion, the girl dive-rolled out of the hammer's path. She glanced back at Thor, and he felt himself falling. It was a momentary sensation, and he jolted to a stop before his mind could register the drop. But suddenly, he was stuck waist-deep in hard soil, grass growing around his chest. He let out an angry cry and wriggled but his legs were stuck fast. In the corner of his eye, the girl stopped and checked her silver bracelet. Nodding to herself, she looked back at Thor, gaze serious.

"Tell SHIELD they won't get any magic tricks today. I have something more important to do."

Thor tried to rise again, with no luck. "It's dishonorable to stop in the middle of a duel. At least finish this."

The girl scrunched her eyebrows, glancing over Thor's situation. Even as she looked him over, her gaze was distracted and hurried, as if Thor had become just an annoying obstruction. "I'm sorry," she told him. Their eyes met once more. Through Thor's battle-clouded haze, he vaguely noticed a hint of something strange in the girl's eyes. A flash of- panic? He didn't have time to check. "I thought I just had," she said, and the young warrior disappeared into air.

* * *

Back at SHIELD, Coulson frowned at the image of Thor pounding the dirt with Mjolnir. "That was strange."

Fury huffed and clicked the screen off. "Why? She didn't do anything we hadn't already seen."

Coulson shook his head. "No, I was expecting that. I've just never seen her leave in the middle of a fight."

"Apparently, she thought she'd finished it."

"No," Coulson answered immediately. "Waverly wouldn't end a fight like that. It was too quick, and it was an underhanded move. There was nothing Thor could have done against it."

"Your point being?"

Coulson moved closer to the now-dark screen, eyes narrowed in thought. "Waverly doesn't work like that. For her to pull that trick- she had to stop for some reason. Otherwise, she would have kept fighting." His brow furrowed in concern.

"What made her stop?"

Coulson shot Fury a look. "I don't know. I haven't seen her in months." Gaze returning to the blank screen, he crossed his arms, musing, "It must have been important, though. I've never seen her leave so fast."

 **AN: I am back, people! Yes! In case you were wondering, my trip was amazing. So awesome. But back to the story.**

 **Hope you enjoyed the extended chapter (and a fight scene!). Please let me know what you thought, I could use some feedback after being away for so long.**

 **Question: What has been your favorite Marvel or PJO movie so far? Please review and see you next chapter!**


	4. Chapter 4

Fury prided himself on being able to keep a mask on at all times. He was almost impossible to read, kept his emotions carefully secret, and could bluff his way out of almost any situation. Now, however, he could barely contain his frustration with _that teenager_. Her case was driving him mad with all its no-go's and hand-tying. What could he do? He was keeping his distance from Waverly East. There'd been no interrogation. They weren't even actively tracking her whereabouts, a huge break in SHIELD's rules about gifted individuals. All Fury wanted was to know what, exactly, Waverly was capable of. He just wanted to know how far to trust her, and how to prepare if she ever switched sides. She may have sworn that would never happen, but the man was the director of the world's leading spy organization. He knew people could change, and their promises often became less than meaningless.

So, Fury felt entirely within his rights in setting up challenges. After all, Waverly refused to reveal anything about herself, and Coulson was staying closemouthed about what he knew. He'd told Fury to be patient, saying that when Waverly trusted him, they'd be privy to more secrets. And Fury had tried to patient- he really had. But this wasn't the same as Rogers or Dr. Banner. Their capabilities were clear and catalogued in their files. And while the Hulk was pretty much unstoppable, the doctor wouldn't uncage him in anything but an emergency and attempted to stay out of high-stress situations. Waverly obviously had no problems with diving into stressful events. She, Fury told himself, was a loose cannon. And if he ever needed the child, he at least needed to know how hard the cannon could fire.

Breaking out of his train of thought at the whirr of machinery, Fury spun to face the steel-plated automatic doors, a standard feature in more secure SHIELD facilities like this one. Agent Coulson strode into the plain, white walled conference room with a questioning look, his hands folded neatly behind his back.

"You called for me, sir?" he asked. Flicking his coat back, Fury settled into the comfy leather armchair at the head of an oval table. He steepled his fingers, fixing his eye on the other man.

"I did. I want you to return to your team."

Coulson frowned at the words. "What about Waverly? I thought you wanted my- input on her."

Fury mentally registered the pause, keeping an impassive face. "I've decided we no longer require your input, Agent."

The news caused Coulson's eyebrows to arch in surprise. "Really? Are you going to leave her alone, then?"

Fury's gaze darkened. "That's not really your concern, is it, seeing as you're no longer assigned to her case."

Coulson's face fell as he took in the director's words. Fury thought his jaw clenched, but if so, he relaxed it immediately. "I see, sir. So, I'm to return to the Bus?"

"Yes," Fury said, straightening. Reaching into his coat, he extracted a file, sliding it down the table to Coulson. "You remember a surveillance assignment I gave your team in Halifax, Nova Scotia?"

Coulson flipped the file open with a grimace. "Yes, sir."

The director raised a brow. "I heard it was a nice place to live. You didn't enjoy it?"

"Oh, no, it was a great city. It just wasn't to my team's liking." Coulson looked up and shrugged. "It was boring."

Fury gave a hmph and cleared his throat. " We received information that the people you were watching are going to send a package to an unknown accomplice. I want you to track the package and find out who the recipient is. Clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. You can review the rest of the information on your way. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir." Coulson turned and headed to the door. After a moment, though, his steps slowed. He swiveled back slowly, meeting the director's probing gaze. He swallowed. "If I may, sir-" he paused. "If I may, I would recommend that you not push Waverly's comfort zone. She isn't a threat, sir, and if you try to test her, you'll only alienate her. You'll know who she is at the right time."

When he answered, Fury's voice dripped with stoniness. "Thank you for your input, Agent Coulson. I'll keep that in mind and do as I see fit."

A hardened glare saw Coulson out of the meeting room. The doors hissed shut, and Fury pulled his phone from his pocket. Barely glancing down, he fired off a text to a standby team of agents: START PREP FOR OP 411E.

The clock was ticking.

 **AN: Hello, and sorry for the absence. School started recently though, so hopefully I'll get into a schedule for writing and updating. Anyway, hopefully this gave you some insight into Fury's motives for whatever he'll do in the future. Hmm, Op 411E. Wonder what that is.**

 **Sorry if the chapters aren't very exciting. I don't know, they seem kind of filler-ish right now. Is that just me? Also, if you've got any theories for what might happen, please let me know. I'd love to hear them!**

 **And ElGuestoItaliano: Thank you so much for the thoughtful review. I loved reading it, and don't worry, I didn't find it imposing. It's actually one of my favorites so far! Thank you for sharing your opinion, and backing it up, too! I hope you like this chapter, as well.**

 **Please review, I love feedback!**

 **And Question: I have two reasons for naming the operation what I did. Can you guess what they are?**


	5. Chapter 5

The moment the elevator doors opened, the Avengers froze in shock. Their eyes trailed over the soiled armor and grass-stained cloak, the dirt-clods crumbling to the ground with every step of his boots. Thor dropped Mjolnir with a clang, taking a direct line to Stark's liquor cabinet to retrieve a bottle of Alfheimian spirits, a precaution he'd taken after the rebuilding of the tower for the rougher days. After emptying the liquid into a coffee mug, Thor dropped onto a barstool, the bang of the mug against marble jolting his teammates out of their stupor.

"Wow, Goldilocks. What the hell happened to you?" Thor took a moment to glare at Stark before taking a gulp of his drink. The taste of strong liquor laced with honey and fruit slipped down his throat, a warm feeling growing in his belly. He sighed. Already, he felt a little better. But not nearly well enough for the billionaire's inevitable comments.

"I aided the Director Fury by engaging in a duel with a talented adversary. It did not end as I expected."

"Oh?" Natasha Romanoff asked, arching an eyebrow from her position on the couch. "Did someone get their butt kicked for once?"

"Perish the thought. She was simply a more talented opponent than I am used to on this planet. I was merely caught unawares."

"Really?" Steve asked, looking Thor up and down. "Because you look like you were buried in a garden."

"And did you say 'she'? Point Blank got beat up by a girl?" Stark smirked.

Thor huffed in irritation. "I did not get 'beat up'. I became trapped in the ground during the battle and my opponent took the opportunity to flee. She most likely realized I was much too powerful for her."

"And how did that happen?" Steve asked. Thor paused, studying his drink.

"The girl caused the ground to open and reform around me." Tony barked out a peal of laughter.

"So she did beat you! You were beaten by a girl! Was she at least hot?"

Thor frowned. "I don't think it is right to say."

"Why not?"

"I don't believe she is... of age yet." The Avengers stared at him, mouths gaping. Tony once again broke the silence.

"You were defeated by a kid?" The god's eyes bored into his coffee mug. His answer came through gritted teeth.

"Indeed."

Stark's howls rang through the tower, broken only by him slapping the table and short gasps of air. He stopped just long enough to shake his head at Thor, saying, "I've got to congratulate this girl," before breaking down again.

* * *

It took a long time for Tony to sober up, which the others spent drinking, rolling their eyes, surfing television, and ordering random expensive things through JARVIS. The genius finally emerged from his hysteria to find Natasha, Clint, and Thor huddled on one of the couches of the living room with a StarkPad between them, Natasha leaning over the god's shoulder to tap at the screen. Tony stumbled over, the occasional giggle still working its way out.

"What's going on?" Clint glanced up.

"We're trying to find Thor's kid." Seeing a smirk begin to regrow on Tony's face, Natasha rolled her eyes.

"He means, we're locating the girl that beat Thor. While you were off busting a gut, we all decided we wanted to meet her."

"Really?" Tony asked. "That's good, now I don't have to sneak off. What are you on?"

"Google," Clint replied. Tony wrinkled his nose, distaste clear.

"Google? Why not just check the SHIELD records?"

"They're classified, Tony." The billionaire scoffed.

"Like that ever stopped me before." Snatching up the Pad, he flicked open a new window, playing around for about twelve seconds before offering the tablet back to the threesome. "There. Much quicker. I'll expect thanks later in the form of heart-shaped chocolates. For now, I have an omelet to make and a potentially explosive screwdriver to look at." Thor stared after the genius, mildly confused, as he strode off, but shook it off with a shrug as he turned back to the device. The Stark man could do as he wished. Soon, Thor and the warrior-girl would meet again.

 **AN: Hello! This chapter has been written for a while, but I'm just now getting it up. Whoops. I'll try to be quicker next time.**

 **So, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please give me feedback on the dialogue, I want to know what you think. And hey, now two groups are trying to find Waverly! What did you think will happen?**

 **Review please, and tell me your thoughts and theories! Thank you all for your continued support!**

 **Question: What would be your dream prank to pull? Doesn't have to be super realistic.**


	6. Chapter 6

' _There are always shadows at play. Chaos never rests long, or at all, truth be told. Light's problem is that it never prepares after a victory. It assumes there will be a respite. The shadows get time to plan. That is an issue._

' _It's a very good thing Light has someone to give them a nudge.'_

A speckled puffball of a bird flitted out of the convenience store through a ripped screen, an odd air of purpose guiding its way down the street. Inside the dingy, grime-dusted shop, not a single preoccupied head watched it go.

* * *

At 3:32 pm, A SHIELD news scanner by the name of Kaelie Rose Hewman began her shift twelve minutes late after suffering through a clogged highway and a shockingly congested elevator. The broad, red-cheeked woman scuttled to her station, eyes on the alert for her boss, a stuffy man with the attitude of a constipated weasel. Finally, she managed to sink gratefully into her seat. Kaelie Rose fired up her scanner and began perusing the pages of the web for any of the many possible red flags. Pages of foreign politics and supposed alien sightings flew by. Twenty seconds in, an innocuous little box popped up in the bottom of her screen, marked only by a flashing yellow light. Her eyebrows crinkling, Kaelie clicked it open. After whizzing through the message once, she sucked in a shallow breath and read it again. Her boss reached her side moments after she pressed the button to buzz him.

Five minutes later, the information in the blinking box had been forwarded up the chain of command, and Kaelie Rose Hewman was busy trawling the net once more.

* * *

As the standard digital SHIELD clocks clicked over to 4:05, Director Nicholas Fury paced back and forth in his Michigan office, watched by an eagle-eyed Maria Hill. "What exactly am I supposed to do, Hill? Call off the operation?"

"Sir, this information-"

"Hasn't been verified. And I don't think it should change anything until it is. Do you disagree?" Fury turned to glare at the dark-haired woman. The woman in question paused before answering. Her voice came out low and calculated.

"Sir, whether the information is true or not, we can't risk our resources until we know for certain." Fury raised his brows.

"And if the threat is real? What do you propose we do?"

"We move location and restart the operation," she answered. "Minimal cost, with no effect on the final product. Same result." The one-eyed man studied her, holding her gaze while he assessed the idea. After a frozen moment, he nodded.

"Do it. But let me know when we are ready to continue. We need more information on the girl's powers, and I won't let this stop that."

Maria Hill spun towards the door with a crisp, "Yes, sir."

* * *

An ant crawled out of the carpeted meeting room in the wake of Maria's footsteps, the fluorescent lighting reflecting dully off of its shell. Many tedious minutes later, it reached the lobby and crawled out the front doors of the shining glass building. Invisible on the bustling street, no one noticed the creature crawl into the hand of a ratty old homeless man, nor the way he held it to his ear like a seashell. No one saw the slow, self-satisfied look that slipped across his face out of nowhere.

Seven minutes later, the tattered man had left.

 **AN: Yes, I am finally back! Ha ha!**

 **I'll keep this short. Sorry for the delay, I was having some writer's block and inspiration shortage. Really stinks. On the bright side, I had an idea for this today and I'm feeling a lot better now! Yay, hope it lasts!**

 **I tried out a new writing style for this chapter, pulling a bit from the Septimus Heap books. What do you guys think?**

 **Please review! You wouldn't believe how much more motivation I get from it. Anything you want to say, I'm ready to listen (flames excluded, although if you really need to, go ahead). I love to hear your thoughts, good or bad!**

 **Hope you liked it!**


	7. Chapter 7

The steady beeping of the StarkPad nearly caused Natasha to grin- something that hadn't happened for seven months.

The moment the first buzz sounded, three hands snapped out for the thin tablet lying innocently on the marble coffee table. Clint's fingers managed to brush over the slim pad, while Thor's meaty fist barely reached the edge of the sofa before the third hand snatched the device up. Natasha was a little surprised. She didn't know Clint had gotten that fast.

The assassin bent eagerly over the StarkPad, leaving the two men to crane over her shoulder. All three raked their eyes over the image on the screen, taking in the rolling green humps and chalky cliffs. Thor frowned.

"Where is this green land? I do not recognize it."

"Hold on, big guy, the coordinates are still coming up," Natasha said.

"Coordinates to what? If it's a chocolate shop, I want in," a familiar, infuriating voice called from across the room. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Don't get your hopes up, Stark. We found the file for Thor's mission and used the video SHIELD took to trace his opponent."

Clint whistled. "That girl's a piece of work. She was creaming Thor."

Thor huffed indignantly. "I was not being creamed by my adversary. We were very evenly-"

"Really?" Tony asked, a grin widening on his face. "Do you still have it?"

"Oh, yeah. Natasha, show him the video." The assassin swiped the satellite page closed and tapped on a black and silver SHIELD app installed on the tablet, a fixture that she'd already reminded herself to report to Fury. The mission feed popped up right away.

Tony leaned over the couch as it began to play, whistling. "Great quality for a field camera. Wonder how much SHIELD paid for that."

"Watch the video, Tony," Natasha drawled.

"I am watching, Natasha. See my eyes? This is called watching." The female shot him a warning glare. The billionaire rolled his eyes, shutting up.

The video continued to play scenes of Thor walking down paths in Central Park. After a while, the genius started shifting. Before he could open his mouth again, the spies each held up a finger, then pointed to the screen. Video-Thor turned off of his road onto a wide stretch of green. A few more steps, and his to-be opponent came into view.

Next to her, Tony sucked in a breath. Natasha glanced over for a second before lowering her vision back to the screen. Whatever they were, the billionaire's comments could wait for afterwards.

On the StarkPad, the two fighters talked, the girl leapt to her feet, and they dove into battle. Like the first time she'd seen the feed, Natasha found herself analyzing the teenager's fighting. She'd chosen a fluid style, with more acrobatics than hand-to-hand combat. The assassin's mouth twitched in approval as the girl used Thor's momentum to her advantage, twisting around him like a ribbon in the wind. After a few minutes of flurried activity, the action froze when the teenager suddenly paled and, with a glance, caused the grassy ground to disappear and swallow the Norse god. One brief back-and-forth conversation later and she had melted away without a trace. Closing the link and reopening the other page, Natasha held the tablet out to Tony.

"That's all there is, but we managed to use the facial recognition software you have to trace her whereabouts to this place." She squinted at a line of tiny turquoise letters running along the bottom of the screen. "Franconia Notch, New Hampshire. She stopped at a memorial for some state monument- the Old Man on the Mountain? Seventeen minutes ago." Tony seemed deep in thought.

"Franconia… " he muttered under his breath. Pursing his lips, he peered closer at the image. Natasha could almost see the gears whirring in his head as he considered the information. Finally, with an air of ease, the billionaire leaned back. "You know, I'm not so sure about this anymore. Are we sure we want to go find this girl?"

The other three Avengers snapped their heads to stare at him. "Are you serious?" Clint said, mouth wide open.

Tony shrugged. "Well, she's obviously involved with SHIELD, and I bet only Fury knows why. I'm just saying that we could quit while we're ahead. The girl already knocked Thunder Head's socks off and I don't think we need any more humiliation than that."

They watched Tony with blank faces. When he finished, they blinked and glanced at each other. In unison, the trio's gaze fell to the StarkPad. Silence spread heavily over the couch.

"So, everyone be ready to leave in half an hour?" Natasha checked.

"Sounds good."

"Agreed."

Tony sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. A second later, however, he brightened, gears again beginning to spin. "Fine. But if we're going, I'm not waiting thirty minutes for you slowpokes. I'll meet you there." Thor glanced up, concern furrowing his brow.

"Friend Stark, would it not be safer for us all to approach the girl-warrior together? We have all seen that her skill is great."

The genius flipped his hand uncaringly. "Don't worry, Goldilocks, I'm a big boy. I'll just scout out the situation and when you all get there, we'll say hello like a good team."

Tony was halfway out the door by the time he finished, leaving his friends no time to come up with a way to stop him. Natasha eyed the empty doorway. Eventually, she turned away to prepare for departure herself, heading to the weapons locker to choose a gun or three. Still, a slight frown stuck to the agent's lips. The situation seemed off to the fire-haired woman. In the back of her mind was an irritating nagging sensation, like a missing word in a sentence. She was sure there was something she didn't know, something she should be seeing but wasn't.

She just couldn't figure out what.

 **AN: Hello. First, I want to apologize for the shortness of last chapter. It just worked that way, and I needed it in there. This one was longer, so I hope you feel better now. And the next one is super long, so I bet you'll enjoy that.**

 **Now, I think I've finally figured out a direction for this. I had ideas before, but now they've kind of conglomerated. So yay.**

 **And finally, I want to say sorry for the time it's taking between chapters. I keep telling myself I'll write, and then I just seem to run out of time. Curse Waverly, she's always busy when I need her for story writing.**

 **Please leave a review if you want to help me get ideas and motivation to write (I sort of need it:P)**

 **Have a great day!**


	8. Chapter 8

New Hampshire grew chilly with the onset of fall. Steel-grey clouds leached color from the sky, the sun a watery disk behind them. Green forests extended from a thin highway up the side of a string of mountains, morphing into slabs of rocky granite. A gusty wind blew through the Notch, pushing through trees and whipping over peaks. It swirled across the top of Mount Lafayette, a wide, extended ridge sprinkled with smooth boulders. Waverly East rested on one, legs pulled up and arms hugging her knees as the breeze sent wisps of hair flying across her face. She leaned forward, filling her lungs with a huge breath, and let it out as her shoulders relaxed. A rolling expanse of hills and valleys stretched out from the mountain in every direction. Squinting, she thought she could make out Vermont and Canada in the distance. Under her breath, she hummed Mountain and the Sea.

A heavy clunk crushed the quiet of the ridge, and Waverly turned her head, blond hair swinging.

"Oh, hello, Tony." The suit lumbered forward. Waverly craned her head around to watch it. It ground to a halt on her left. "What's up? You usually text when you want to hang out."

The metal visor popped open. "It was a bit of a last second decision. Didn't think it through. How have you been?"

"Pretty good," she said, smiling. "I got back in town a couple days ago, and guess what? Wouldn't you know it, someone's already waiting to pick a fight. I tried to say no, but the guy acted like a kid with a lost chocolate bar. Is everyone in New York so temperamental?"

"No, just feisty. I'm guessing you're talking about Thor?"

Waverly's eyebrows arched. "Yeah. You know him?"

Tony nodded. "He's an-"

"Avenger with you, right. Totally forgot you were a part of that."

"Thanks. Always nice to be appreciated." They paused and exchanged an amused look.

"So, did he say anything about it?" Waverly asked, restarting the conversation.

"Well, when he came into the tower looking like a garden troll, we all assumed there was something. Yeah, it was brought up. In fact, everyone liked the story so much that they wanted to meet you in person."

"Really? And how did they plan on finding me?" she asked, a slight smirk crossing her face and her eyebrows raised. Tony glanced at the girl before spilling his next sentence.

"They used facial recognition and satellite feeds. They'll be here in ten minutes." The girl instantly stiffened, her head whipping toward Tony.

"What?" she asked, the word sharp, short and incredulous. "Where were you when this happened?"

"I was making an omelet." Waverly gave him a look. "Hey, I didn't know it was you at first. And after they figured out where you were, I couldn't talk them out of it."

Waverly groaned, raising her eyes to the clouds. "Great."

"It isn't such a bad thing." Tony waited until her gaze slid fully back to him. "The team's pretty cool. You'll like them."

"They're close to SHIELD. It doesn't matter if I'd like them, they'll run straight to Fury with any information I give them."

"I didn't." Waverly shot him a mock glare.

"You're Tony Stark, and you knew me before SHIELD took the spotlight."

"They're not as goody two-shoes as that."

"Tony," Waverly used a disapproving adult voice.

"Well, maybe Cap is, but the rest of us can rein him in."

"Tony."

"Yes?" He asked, curiosity on his face. She met his gaze, holding it steadily.

"How do I know I can trust them?"

The genius stilled, his innate need for movement halting. He twisted to face Waverly head-on, and shook his head in a way that made the answer seem obvious. "I'm telling you they are."

"And I can trust that?" Tony offered her his gloved hand, palm up.

"You can trust me." Waverly grasped the hand, letting Tony pull her up off the rock. She stared him directly in the eyes. Then, she clapped her other hand on his armored shoulder and grinned.

"I know. So, let's see if your friends can stand me, and we'll go from there."

* * *

Tony didn't blame the others for slowing down as they reached him and Waverly. The hostile aura radiating off of her would have made a great pest control agent. If he didn't know it was Waverly's form of a test, he would have been ducking for cover. Maybe it would have been a good idea to try convincing his team to prepare more. Oh, well. Second-guessing only led to a safe, controlled life without action.

Before the Avengers had gotten too close, Tony edged away from Waverly. By the time they reached them, there was a good ten-foot gap, the perfect distance for a first encounter. The Avengers lined up shoulder-to-shoulder with Tony, the tension in the air reminding him of an old Western showdown. Each side was just itching to draw and shoot.

Steve, the designated spokesman, cleared his throat. "Hello, miss. I'm sorry to interrupt your day, but my friends and I wanted to talk about-"

"I'm not buying anything."

Steve blinked. "What?"

"I don't deal with salesman. Do you see a door around here?" Tony raised an eyebrow. She was going to pull out all the stops, wasn't she?

"I'm not a salesman," Steve said, shaking his head. "We're the Avengers. I'm Steve Rogers. This is my team."

"What do you avenge?" Waverly asked, deadpan look on her face.

"Um," Steve glanced at the others. "The world?"

"Which one?"

"This one?" Steve's brow furrowed, looking unsure of the answer. Tony raised his eyes to the sky, a gloved hand rubbing across his jaw.

"Hmph. Go on."

"Oh. Well, a few days ago, you fought my friend Thor. We just wanted to, ah, meet you."

Waverly assumed an amused, snarky air. "Aw, always nice to meet a fan. And Buttercup, I didn't recognize you!" Clint coughed into his fist. Tony bit his lip to avoid a grin. "Listen, I understand the hoopla, but I'm a very busy person. I'm afraid you'll have to make an appointment." For an added flair, she flicked a sheaf of hair over her shoulder. Bits of glitter sparkled in it, and Tony watched Natasha's eyes narrow as she noticed them.

Steve looked utterly thrown off. "What? We just wanted to talk about what happened."

Waverly tutted disappointedly. "Sorry, but those are trade secrets. Copyrighted. Can't go giving them away."

"But-"

Natasha suddenly interrupted Steve. "You can stop the evasive techniques, we just wanted to meet you." Waverly's hand found her heart in a wounded gesture. Natasha rolled her eyes. "The sassy teen act is good, but I was trained to detect masks like that."

An inquisitive brow rose. "Oh, really? What if it isn't a mask?" Waverly asked.

"It is."

"What if it isn't?"

"It is, so stop hiding behind it." Waverly pursed her lips.

"Hm. You know, seventy-eight percent of people get hopelessly annoyed with that. I like you."

Steve, whose head had been wagging between the two women, tried to regain some control. "So, will you talk to us?"

Waverly leveled her gaze at him. Tony had to remember to compliment her on that look. "No. Why?"

Steve stuttered for a moment. "I- I just thought-"

Thor cut in, his voice a low rumble. "Do you not wish to recount the tale of your deed? To drink and boast and hear praise for your achievement in escaping me?"

Waverly's eyebrows reached toward her hairline. "Escape? I didn't escape, I beat you."

Tony coughed. "She's got you there, Sunflower."

Thor reddened. "I was caught unawares! I didn't expect such an opponent to come from your race!"

Natasha spun, jutting out a hip. "Hey, what about us?" Thor sputtered, shrugging defensively. Meanwhile, a smile spread across Waverly's lips.

"What are you smirking at?" Clint asked, catching it.

"Oh, nothing. Just the way you guys assume things."

"What are you talking about?"

The grin reached from one ear to the other. "How about I let you figure it out?"

"Listen," Steve said, finally managing to jump back into the conversation. "We just want to talk."

Waverly's eyes caught Steve's with an intense, questioning look. "Why? Why do you really want to talk to me?" Steve froze, an answer escaping him. Her brow furrowed. "You know SHIELD wants information on me. That's the reason Thor was sent in the first place. Either SHIELD sent you to do this, or you wanted to beat them to it. Which is it?"

"Neither," Steve answered.

"Neither?"

"You beat Thor in single combat. That was impressive. We just wanted to talk about it." She took a step back, obviously analyzing him. Her gaze spread to the other Avengers, testing them with her eyes. The team didn't seem to notice that she didn't bother looking at Tony. "Listen," Steve said, breaking the silence that had fallen. "We don't want to force you into anything, especially since we just met you. It's just," he looked around at the team for support. "You're obviously special. We thought you might like to talk to people who know what that's like."

Waverly covered her mouth. They watched her, puzzled. Suddenly, a muffled sound found its way out. A few moments later, another followed. It looked like Waverly would give in to the laughter, but she swallowed it down. Her voice still held a tinge of mirth when she spoke. "Oh, you guys. That's sweet." She crossed her arms, biting a knuckle in thought. A mischievous grin blossomed and she straightened. "Okay."

"You'll talk to us?" Steve asked, incredulous.

"Sure!" Waverly glanced at her watch. "Unfortunately, I have a meeting in Canada in two minutes that I can't be late for. You know the type, right? All right, then. Bye!"

She turned, sprinting straight for the edge of the ridge. Shouts of shock followed as she leaped off, the Avengers wide-eyed and reaching for her futilely, only to watch her dissolve into air before she could fall an inch. The team stood like blocks of wood, hearts still racing.

A message pinged in the inbox in the corner of Tony's visor. With a blink, he opened it:

 _Well, I thought that was fun. See you soon, Tony._

 **AN: Well, I clawed my way back to the world of updating. Sorry it took me so long, again. Certain important activities are drawing closer and eating up all my time. Hopefully this chapter made up for it.**

 **To Fairy of the Friz: Thank you _so_ much. It's amazing how much your review meant to me. It literally made my day, and I hope you liked the Tony and Waverly siblingyness! Again, thank you. **

**To you all, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please review, and I have a special treat next chapter. We will be seeing... a god! Yay, I'm happy. It'll be fun.**

 **BTW, there were a couple subtle things I wonder if you noticed. If you think you did, ask me in the reviews and I'll PM you.**

 **Have a wonderful day, all!**


	9. Chapter 9

Waverly met the god on the lush field surrounding the old fort. More specifically, she met him leaning against one of the cannons positioned on the sloping hillside, dressed in the uniform of a 78th Highlander. Behind him, clean grey walls stood sentry-like under a sunny sky. Further down the hill, grass morphed into pavement and buildings as it became the town clustered around the fort. To the east, half hidden, a rolling grey sea undulated lazily. Reaching him, Waverly crossed her arms, surveying the forest green and scarlet get-up with a critical look.

"You had to play dress-up? What is it with you and the fancy costumes?"

The god huffed, straightening a flap of his embellished collar. "Hey, I like this. And it gives the mortals something to look at."

"But it has a kilt."

He shrugged. "It's traditional."

"It's a kilt."

"It's fun. Although a bit breezy."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Waverly said.

He frowned at her, a pout forming. "Are you here to criticize my fashion sense?"

She spread her arms. "I don't know, you told me to come here. You're telling me it _wasn't_ because of that?"

"Of course not," he replied, sounding a little put off. "It was for a completely unrelated reason."

"Well then, spit it out, Hermes."

He sighed. "Fine. I have a job for you." Waverly groaned.

"Are you kidding? Why can't you just have Percy do it, like normal?" she pleaded, putting on the expression of an innocent and frail animal cub. Hermes stared, transfixed, before shaking himself out of it.

"Wow, that's a good one. What do you call it?"

"Baby Polar Bear, they're adorable."

"Nice. But I still need you to do this." She opened her mouth, protest clear. "Waverly, there's a reason I'm talking to you and not Percy." She stopped, jaw snapping shut.

"Yes?"

"First, the job isn't from me, it's from someone else. And two, you'll want this one."

Waverly cocked her head. "Really? Who and why?"

Hermes answered in a carefully emotionless voice. "Our dear friend with the seven companions."

Waverly's face slackened. "No." Hermes nodded, mouth pinched. "Why would she give me a quest? We both know she doesn't help people like me." Her voice rose, confusion pitching it higher. Hermes listened with a vaguely sad expression before speaking.

"I don't know, Waverly. She didn't tell me why, she just said you needed to do this."

Waverly's eyes narrowed. "And what is 'this'?"

"You know where we are, right?"

"The Halifax Citadel in Nova Scotia," Waverly answered.

"Yes. Now, if you head down the north side of the Citadel, you'll find the police headquarters on Gottingen Street. Go further, and you'll see a dingy little shop next to the Propeller Brewing Company."

"The what now?"

Propeller Brewing Company. The shop is right next to it."

"Is that a cover?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. You need to get something from the shop and bring it back here. She'll find you from there."

"What's the catch? That sounds way too easy."

"She said you couldn't use your powers." Waverly's brow shot up, disbelief in her eyes.

"You're kidding. What kind of rule is that?" Hermes shrugged.

"Don't ask me, I'm just the messenger god." Waverly pursed her lips.

"Did she even give you a reason why I should do this for her?"

The god smoothed a crinkle in his kilt and crossed his arms. "You'll be glad you did."

"Why?"

"I don't know. But considering who we're talking about…"

She sighed, nodding. She shifted, pacing a couple steps, before swinging back around, blond hair catching the light. A few silver flecks sparkled in it. "Why is she doing this, Hermes? I know she didn't tell you, but do you have an idea?"

The disguised god's lips thinned as he considered her baffled face. Silence stretched for a moment. Then he folded his arms. "Maybe it isn't because of you. Maybe, she's helping someone else, too."

Waverly's confusion deepened, but she sighed and shook her head. "Hm. Okay. Whatever. What is it she wants me to get?"

* * *

 _It really is quite a dingy store_ , Waverly thought, watching the building from across the street. The brewing company itself looked respectable, with clean red brick walls and large gold letters spelling out its name: PROPELLER BREWING COMPANY. An extended center window and glass doors on either side made it look like a converted fire station. Next to it, however, was a different story. The miniscule shop resembled a discarded postage stamp, its originally bright walls faded, the windows grime-covered and cracked. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn it had long ago been closed down as a hazardous area.

Judging by the view through the window, it wasn't that much better on the inside.

Tapping her chin, Waverly considered the best entry method. No self-respecting person or monster would believe that anyone would actually decide to go inside the store, so a frontal approach was out. She'd prefer to simply evaporate in, except for the whole 'no powers' rule. She craned her head through the window, trying to see past a wall of scrappy posters and propped-up knickknacks that effectively hid most of the room and brought home the feeling of a grimy dump. Waverly sighed, heading back around the side of the building. Nothing for it then. She was doing this the dirty way.

A tiny, three-pane window was situated high on the side wall, probably to provide a bit of light into the back part of the shop. Its wood frame was shedding flakes of white paint, revealing light cedar-colored strips that curled away from the whole. Waverly yanked her left ring off, letting it morph into a sword before placing her hands against the brick wall. Leaning her weight on them, she wedged a foot on the brewing company's side, kicking up with her other foot to put it by the other.

Horizontal between the buildings, she edged herself up a foot and hand at a time, hair hanging down and wisps flying from movement. Waverly brushed her face against her shoulder, mentally grousing at how she should have tied it back.

Finally, she reached the level of the window. Waverly spread her feet a little, then, pushing with all her strength against both buildings, cautiously removed her sword hand from the wall, balancing with the other. Her body wobbled as she brought the tip of the sword to the window frame. The edge slid under and her eyes narrowed in concentration. A bit of applied leverage and the corner of the window popped open with a short crack that made Waverly wince.

She hurriedly squeezed her sword's handle and shoved it, now in ring form, between her teeth, clenching it tightly. Her hand reached out and wiggled the rest of the window loose.

She glanced around, suddenly realizing how far away the ground was. A sweeping gaze was aimed around the area, as if a handy shelf or soft mattress would be found. With no such luck, Waverly shot the window a rueful look. Gritting her teeth against the ring, she lightly tossed the piece of glass and wood up the remaining few feet to the roof.

It clattered upon contact and she cringed. After a paused moment in which nothing happened, Waverly peeked through the new hole in the side of the building. She tilted her head left, right, down, then up, and pulled herself through the opening. A strange sort of flip/layout ended with her clinging to the windowsill vertically, a few feet from the floor. With a small push off the wall and a barely audible thump she was on the ground. Waverly glanced around again, flicked a piece of hair back, then disappeared into the aisles of the shop.

 **AN: Well, I'm back. So sorry for the wait. I was trying to get a few chapters done, but it took a while.**

 **So, important thing. Remember back in the beginning, when I mentioned that the original Hounds and Jackals game involved trying to corner and capture your opponent's pieces? We'll start to be seeing more of that next chapter. Things will start to tie together. I'm quite excited.**

 **Leave comments, theories, any ideas you have, I would love to hear them! And have a great day.**


	10. Chapter 10

Waverly hated to admit it, but the place was creepy. A quilt of dust spread over the contents of the store, washing colors to dull grey, like a dated horror film. Warped boxes were shunted into random piles and tarp-covered merchandise littered the creaking shelves. Possessed dolls wouldn't have been out of place.

Waverly crept through the aisles, flicking her gaze nervously from place to place. The linoleum floor showed scuffmarks, the dust teased into clumps by the wall. _So, people usually work here. Maybe they're on lunch break?_ Waverly's shoulders hunched at the thought of spending hours in the close darkness. With a shudder, she pushed it away and straightened her spine, striding purposefully farther into the gloom.

When she found the back of the store, she couldn't help a bemused snort. Instead of a floor, a jagged hole stretched from one wall nearly to the other. Tiles had been ripped up, tossed to the side willy-nilly to make room for the shabbiest staircase she'd ever seen. It lumbered downwards into the ground like an ungainly elephant, misshapen and clunky, disappearing into darkness. Waverly leaned forward and sniffed; the air smelled distinctly of cloying earth and construction. Shifting back with a creased brow, she looked longingly in the direction of the window.

Then, with light, quick steps she descended.

The air grew musty and moist, the scent of packed dirt mixing with that of damp stone. Waverly felt the tingle of evaporated water kissing her skin, compressed as it was in the underground level.

The downstairs appeared even more horrible than the first floor. A mere two lamps lit the space, one perched precariously on top of a clothes' rack in the middle of the room, the other situated midway up a ladder in the corner, right next to the packed earth wall. Racks of merchandise littered the area, just like above. However, the items were stranger than in the store. Almost sinister.

Rusty buckets held wrought charms of silver, copper, and steel. On the clothes' rack hung everything from ancient battle gear to SWAT team fatigues. A SHIELD jumpsuit dangled next to a glimmering blue silk dress embellished with jewels, beside which were a cowboy's leather chaps. A tray in the corner held knives of varying lengths and designs. And there were magical devices everywhere.

A clay jar embossed with snowy stars pulsed like a heartbeat. Rows of rainbow-colored woven bracelets sparkled unnaturally. Lime green liquid climbed the walls of a glass bottle in defiance of the laws of gravity.

Waverly's face paled as she passed a shard of obsidian stone, watching it as if it would strike her. Streaks of red marred one side. The teenager sucked in a deep breath, turning her face away as she moved on.

Finally, she spied a polished metal form in the corner. Waverly hurried over to it thankfully. Looking it over, she sighed in relief at the design of lotuses and vines that covered the box, spiraling inward toward the image of a roiling storm cloud. Greek letters were stenciled on the sides in silver, surrounding the box in an unbroken band. Waverly hugged it close as she started back across the floor.

Above, the sound of many footsteps tramped in from the direction of the front door.

Waverly's eyes shot to the ceiling as she froze. She listened, tracking the steps. Many simply moved around the shop, changing slightly when they picked up or put down an object. Workers coming back from break. _So, then_ … One pair changed from thuds to creaks on the staircase, closely followed by another set. _They're coming down here, too_. Waverly sighed. It always came to this. It always, constantly came to this.

Packing the box tightly under her left arm, she tensed. Her heartbeat pounded louder, heavier. Her fingers flexed. Eyes narrowed. A sharp, wild glint appeared.

A worker in gray slacks turned the corner.

Waverly burst into action, grabbing the woman and shoving her against the nearest shelf. Metal clanged and she sank to the ground. The second person tore into the aisle and was met by a solid oak mantle clock to the head. Waverly dropped it to move past, then paused to look back. Although mangled by the hit and fall, a ticking still sounded from the clock. She blinked and cocked her head. "Another one?" With a shake of her head, she gave a humph and ran.

At the top of the stairs she met two people just about to head down. Hurtling into one, she spun and swiped a leg under the other, forcing him onto his back. She stepped on his stomach to keep him down longer and headed into the shelves.

Shouts echoed around her as the other inhabitants were alerted. Footfalls sped toward her. Waverly put on a burst of speed, then skidded to a stop as bodies suddenly blocked her way. In a split-second, she'd gripped the side of a shelf and pulled herself up. Crawling on top, she gathered her feet under her, then propelled herself over the gap to land on the next rack. Still scanning, Waverly prepared her next jump toward the little high window.

Just then, a figure appeared in front of her, springing from the floor straight to the top shelf. It crouched ready, lean and willowy as a sprite. Light reflected in eyes as dark as an unlit theater, with an edge of deep burnished mahogany. Waverly prepared to ram into them.

Then she noticed the shadow's ears and her own eyes widened. Without another thought she sent the nearest object hurtling at the figure. In a blink, their torso twisted. The object sailed past and fell into darkness. She froze, anger draining out of her eyes. For the second time since entering the store, Waverly paled.

Leaping down to ground level, she shot straight for the front. Feet away from it, a slender hand snatched at her arm, grabbing hold. She twisted sharply. The person lost their balance, slamming into the edge of the last shelf. Glass appeared in front of her. Covering her head, Waverly dropped her shoulder and rammed into the knick-knack covered window.

Gleaming shards flew in all directions. Waverly hit the ground outside and rolled, gasping as fragments tore into her. She lay on her back, muscles taut, unwilling to move. A shadow appeared in the empty hole of the window. Clenching her hands into fists, Waverly rose, gritting her teeth as she sprinted away.

* * *

It took Waverly a couple of minutes to realize that she was going in the wrong direction. Instead of headed toward the Citadel, she was moving away, farther into the city. She slowed to a jog, waiting for the next side street to loop back. Spying a sign up ahead, she glanced back once before turning onto it. Then stopped, backed up and looked again. The streets bustled happily, chock-full of people unaware of the events a few blocks away. No one from the store seemed to have followed. Yet, Waverly felt that something was off. Resting a hand on the wall, she looked the street over more carefully.

A couple buildings back, a petite, black-haired Asian woman strode down the street. A black leather jacket hugged her, coupled with dark pants and combat boots. Her stride was purposeful, her eyes aimed casually to the left of Waverly. The woman could have been on her way to a meeting, perhaps a lunch date. Except that Waverly recognized the gait of a fighter.

Her boots clicked on the pavement as she broke back into a jog, examining more closely the buildings and crowd around her. One trail meant at least two people, more likely three. The woman wouldn't be alone.

Hurried movement in the third-floor window of a red-brick building. _There's number two._ Waverly looked ahead for the next right turn. All she needed was to get back to the Citadel for drop-off and she could leave. Gods, she really didn't have time for this. _Just get it back to her._ She gripped the ornate box tighter, tried to forget about the glass imbedded in her skin, and quickened her pace.

 **AN: Okay, wow. How did it take so long to do this? I am SO sorry. I won't make excuses- this should have been up a long time ago. I hope you can forgive me. I got some reviews that had me editing this and the next chapter, and also doing some thinking about some story aspects. Hopefully, it'll be better in the long run.**

 **I got a few reviews talking about Mary Sueness. I've been trying to avoid that, but I know that what I read as fine may be coming off that way. I'll work to be better. Please review with how I'm doing on that front, or what might have to change.**

 **To ElGuestoItaliano: Thank you for the insightful and thoughtful ideas, awesome person:) I loved reading your review, and I'm attempting to use some of your ideas. Please tell me how I do, in this and future chapters. You brightened my day!**

 **Have a great day, everyone!**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Oh my god. This took way too long. I am _so_ sorry. I really am. All I have to say is that winter is an insanely busy time for me, and I'm working and overwhelmed, but I'm finally on break for a week. And in response to a review, no, this isn't being abandoned. I just have not been able to work on it. _So, so_ sorry.**

 **And now, on to the story. Hope you like it.**

* * *

"I'm following the target. Do we know what happened back at the store?" May murmured, dodging pedestrians as she turned the corner of Halifax's Cornwallis Street

 _Not yet. Fitz and Simmons are on their way to find out. Ward, where are you?_ Coulson's voice fed through the earpiece.

 _Taking a shortcut. I'm having a hard time keeping up with this one._ May rolled her eyes at Ward's miffed tone. He never liked being at a disadvantage.

 _Well, keep up. We can't lose the package._

 _Yes, sir._

 _Did you get a visual on the target?_

A faint grunt of exertion from Ward, followed by, _Yeah. Just sent it back to you. It's a young one._

 _Got it._ There was a pause, then the mic crackled as Coulson sucked in a breath. When he spoke again, his voice was hurried, the words strained. _Change of plans. I'm coming in._

"Sir?" May asked, brows drawing together.

 _Listen to me, May. Hold the target until I get there, but do not use unnecessary force._ Static. _Is that clear?_

"Yes, sir." _Yes._

 _Good._ The earpiece clicked as the line closed. May shook her head and picked up the pace.

* * *

Waverly was maybe a block away from the Citadel and freedom when Number Two caught up, barreling towards her from across a wide stretch of pavement behind one of the stores. She caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, laying on speed to pull ahead before he could reach the street, suddenly glad that she was on a back road. Most of the civilians had been left behind on the more commercial streets, leaving her way clear. She risked a glance back, taking a moment to analyze him. Big, athletic, dressed in a black muscle-shirt and dark pants. Just in time, she noticed a strange-shaped gun in his hand, and ducked to avoid any shots. She gritted her teeth. The green of the knoll was finally in view, yet there were still too many yards between her and it, and not enough between her and the man in back. Her fingers flexed involuntarily, a corner of her mind itching to use what was so readily there.

But those weren't the rules.

A groan tore from her throat and she checked her pursuer's position in the passing blur of a glass window. Too close, and now the black-haired woman had joined him. _Wonderful._ They weren't shooting, thankfully, although the athletic-looking man still held his gun at the ready. Perhaps she could actually make it.

Waverly crossed the final street in a flash and started up the hill, knees pumping high. Her lungs were feeling the strain, expanding in huge bursts that still weren't large enough. But she was almost there. It couldn't end yet.

Over a wire fence, across the green fields and down a set of weathered granite stairs to the main fortress, a grey-walled open-air plaza dug deep into the ground. The last steps of the staircase were skipped in favor of a leap over the thin metal railing. The pebbled earth of the courtyard crunched beneath her. Waverly swept the area with one wild gaze, and found her.

Stately and tall, the woman stood in the open space of the yard. Her stature spoke of strength, with solid limbs and a well-built frame. Hair twisted into a braid down her back, the color of damp garden soil, crowned by a golden, ridged circlet. In comparison, the woman's skin resembled the light dusty brown of desert mountains. A thick, sage-colored pea coat hung loosely to her knees, the bottom of a lighter, spring green dress reaching the rest of the way to her feet. A crowd of pigeons huddled around the hem. Waverly counted seven.

The woman suddenly raised her head, meeting Waverly's eyes with her own. Like the first time they'd met, the warm, mellow color was as calming as it was unnamable, and the surface of her skin glimmered with a metallic sheen. Her expression was, as ever, infuriatingly serene and unfeeling. Waverly gritted her teeth and walked over.

The woman spoke first. "Waverly East. You collected what I asked for."

A cold, insincere smile accompanied her answer. "Tyche. I did."

The goddess of luck raised a brow. "Such hostility. You do understand that I'm helping you?"

"I heard that. Not sure if I believe it."

"Why ever not?"

"Because you wouldn't do that for me." The answer hung in the air, casual but firm. Tyche blinked, and her next words held a touch of mirth.

"Well, I'll admit I'm not very happy about it. Unfortunately, I have a duty. You will thank me later."

Waverly grimaced, "I'm not sure I will, actually."

"Come now," the goddess reproached her. "You know that I help you, luck-wise. You wouldn't be alive without me, much less in one piece."

"Maybe," Waverly said, her eyes darkening. "But you disappeared when it counted."

"You don't really expect me to interfere with Fate, do you?" Condescension twisted through the goddess's words.

Waverly's eyes flashed with anger. "Stop that, Tyche. You've changed destinies before, and we both know it."

"Two of the few that do." The goddess paused, her cool gaze boring into the girl. Waverly felt her heart pounding fast in her chest, her muscles shaky with tension. She straightened, chin high, although she still felt like a delinquent bitterly waiting for a cop's sentence. "I told you that I didn't want to help you," the lady continued. "That's true. But this _is_ necessary and you will be glad, eventually. It's the easiest way."

Waverly crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"

Instead of responding, Tyche shook back a sleeve of her coat and consulted her watch. A delicate bronze timepiece, its clear watch face sparkled within entwined metal bands. After a moment, she pulled her sleeve back down.

Still ignoring the teen, the goddess leaned down, extending her hand toward one of the pigeons around her feet. It considered the appendage with a quirked head, then hopped into her palm. Her slim fingers cupped the bird gently as she lifted it. The pigeon and goddess regarded each other. "I want you to find Subject 238, Anta. They have twelve minutes coming up. Make sure all goes well?"

The bird cooed sweetly. Its feathers fluffed, then shivered. Waverly watched its amber eye gleam. With all the swiftness of a water spill, the pigeon's plumage darkened to a dusky charcoal and its body inflated. The short, curved beak lengthened and paled. Claws extended, as did wings. The newly transformed, bulky crow took off with a squawk, its inky wings pumping furiously to send it spiraling into the hazy sky. Waverly's blue eyes followed its flight.

"You have all your Companions back," Waverly noted.

"Finally," Tyche agreed. "I trust you'll stay far away from them." Warning slipped underneath the casual words.

Waverly didn't bother with a friendly smile, keeping her face just as cool as the green-cloaked goddess. "Don't worry. Nothing but a set of truly unlucky circumstances could get me close to them again."

"How nice to hear. I'll remember that. Speaking of which," She added, glancing over Waverly's shoulder. "You may want to turn around now."

Waverly whirled, eyes wide. Her expression darkened. The man and woman in black were hurrying down the steps.

Immediately she spun back to Tyche, thrusting the gilded box at her. "Take it."

"What about our conversation?" she replied, annoyingly collected.

Waverly huffed in frustration. "I don't have time, Tyche, I have to go. And I can't go until I can use my powers. Until you get this, the job's not over. Now take your stupid box."

"It isn't _my_ box, Waverly East. Didn't you read the inscription?" Waverly scowled at her. Before she could answer, the sound of shifting gravel made her tense. A firm, female voice spoke from a few steps away.

"Stay where you are and turn around slowly. No sudden movements."

Waverly straightened, her jaw clenched in annoyance. Shooting Tyche an accusing glare, she rested the silver container on her hip and pivoted deliberately. Her two pursuers stood at the ready, their strange guns trained on her.

On the right side was the tall, buff man with cropped black hair. He had the build of a racehorse, strong and swift, with muscles honed for competition, not size. He eyed her down the barrel of his gun, aim sure, searching for a threat.

The woman, on the other hand, was tiny and lean, although not to be underestimated. With one look, Waverly knew that her initial thought was on point. The lady was definitely a fighter. Her gaze was cold, her hands steady, not a speck of doubt clouding her manner.

Waverly took a deep breath, composing herself. Her two opponents watched, staying eerily still, but alert. Almost as if they were waiting.

The woman spoke up first. "Sir, we have the target." Waverly blinked, a furrow creasing her forehead. After a moment, her eyes flew wide in realization. She murmured a breathy 'oh'. The duo's eyes sharpened on her.

"Agents," Waverly said simply. A sarcastic smile slipped across her face. "How surprising. I think I can guess, but who do you work for?"

"You can ask him yourself. He's on his way," said the man.

"Really? Now that is surprising," Waverly replied. About to continue, she broke off as an aggravated look fell over the man's face. He raised a hand off his gun, bringing it to his ear as he took in whatever was being said. Waverly watched with interest, noting the apparent comm unit. Still listening, the man rolled his eyes at what he heard.

"Skye, are you ever going to stop calling him AC?"

"AC?" Waverly repeated, her lips quirking. "Really?" The agents glared at her, but she only tilted her head. "A for Agent, I'm guessing, but what does the C stand for?"

"You could never decide." The voice rang in the open courtyard, clear and strong. Despite the fact that it had been several months since she'd heard it, Waverly recognized the tone instantly. Matter-of-fact. To the point. But an edge, a clear edge, of light teasing.

Waverly froze, staring dead-eyed into the eyes of the male agent, who shifted under her fixed, flat gaze. A frozen shiver danced over her skin. Her head felt strangely stuffed, her equilibrium off-balance. Finally, she pulled together the will to look up.

And there was Phil Coulson, standing at the very top of the stairs Waverly had leapt down minutes earlier.

 **AN: Okay, hello again. Once more, terribly sorry for the (really long) delay. Life's been crazy and stressful and _full_ of applications. But I am back for the moment. I can't promise that the next chapter will be up any sooner than this one was, but rest assured that I am working on it. **

**Part of what's taken so long is that I wasn't sure where to go with the story, but I have a better idea now. I took some time and wrote out a plot line for it.**

 **In the meantime, please leave comments and/or reviews. I adore the feedback, and I try to take it to heart. It really helps an unbelievable amount.**

 **Thank you so much to those who have reviewed. You guys are great!**

 _ **(By the way, what did you guys think of my surprise people?)**_


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Hello, my friends! Well, I have finally found a moment to post this, and I have grappled my way back to this. Good news, my biggest time commitment has just ended, so hopefully I can start writing more, even though I still haven't fully recuperated.**

 **So, here's the chapter I hope you've all been waiting for. Hope you like it, cheris.**

Coulson had never been so nervous in his life. His operative test, his first field mission, asking Audrey Nathan out for dinner after one of her cello performances- they didn't compare to the idea of revealing his living status to Waverly. Even as he jogged up the side of the Halifax Citadel's green, sloping hill, there was a part of him that questioned the decision. Not only did it go against all of SHIELD's rules, he had no idea how his young friend would react.

He sighed, thinking back on the times she'd let her guard down. It hadn't happened often- or really ever, when he thought about it. She'd always had a wall up, a wall of fun and magic and sarcastic moments and jests.

But there had been times that she couldn't hide. Coulson still remembered the look on Waverly's face the first time they'd ever met, wild and angry and full of distrust. He recalled how she'd shied away from him, always keeping yards of space between them. And later, when the barrier between them was mental. _Three years_ , he thought. _Three years, and the only time she told me anything was because I caught her by surprise in an alley_.

It had taken a disastrous mission for Waverly to trust Coulson the first time around. Now, he had died. Not only that, but he was back. God, he had been back for months and he hadn't given her any sign at all. Even if Fury had forbidden any contact, Coulson doubted Waverly would forgive him, or could. She'd seen too much of the world to trust him again. He still knew her enough to be sure of that.

Coulson stopped just below the summit of the hill, staring blankly at the spot where rolling grass hid a stone staircase to the main courtyard.

Could he really do that to her?

Half of his mind told him to walk away and let her live her life without the complication of him in it, just as he'd let Audrey do. The other half insisted he face her, take the risk and to hell with Fury and the rules.

He was frozen on the side of the hill, his thoughts whirling in a silent sparring match. To reveal himself, or stay hidden? The question skittered around like a crazed animal, the answer eluding him. Then, abruptly, as if it knew that angle was pointless, his mind switched tracks.

The box.

SHIELD wanted that silver box. Apparently it was important enough to warrant around-the-clock surveillance, not just on it but anyone surrounding it.

Waverly had the box. That made her part of his team's mission. They'd already revealed themselves, so discreet surveillance was out of the question. The only thing to do was to retrieve the box and bring it to SHIELD. To do that, they needed to get it from Waverly. He couldn't see her giving it up to two agents she'd never met before. And Coulson would bet his Captain America cards that May and Ward couldn't beat Waverly.

So, there was only one thing to do. Coulson couldn't help smiling, even as his heart thudded anxiously. He stepped the last few feet to the stairs just in time to hear Waverly speaking.

"AC? A for Agent, I'm guessing, but what does the C stand for?"

"You could never decide," Coulson called, and watched Waverly freeze.

With the sluggish speed of a glacier, she looked up and met his eyes. The color leeched from her face.

He couldn't hear the words she whispered on seeing him, but her face told him enough.

There was no way she thought he was real.

* * *

"Stand down," Coulson called to his agents, making his way down the steps. They cautiously lowered their icers, relaxing tentatively. He shoved past them as May made a noise of protest, and came face-to-face with Waverly. He stopped feet away, heart pounding nervously.

Her face was bleached ice-pale and she looked ready to run. In her eyes was a wild light, edgy and almost animal-like. It made Coulson's spirits drop. It was almost the exact look she'd shot at him the first time they'd met, except now with a glint of fear.

Together, they took a shuddering breath. Coulson cleared his throat, feeling the words pile up inside him. Before he found the courage to speak, though, Waverly began to shake her head.

"No." The word appeared, final, definite. "You're not here."

"Waverly," he started.

"No," she cut in again, jaw clenched. "Just no. They don't get to pull this. You-" she whipped her head around to glare at the tall woman in a green coat behind her. "Do not get to do this. You _wouldn't_ do this. You're lying."

"Waverly," the woman in the coat responded. "I don't lie."

She swung back around, eyes darting across Coulson's face, sweeping him up and down, all the while full of disbelief and confusion. "But you're dead." Her voice's pitch shot up at the end, turning the words into a question.

"I was," Coulson admitted. "But only for a little while. Waverly, I'm back." The stares of his agents dug into Coulson's back, but he refused to look back at them, instead focusing solely on the disordered girl in front of him. "Waverly," he repeated. "I'm alive."

She shuddered from head to toe. Then, her expression sharpened. A flash of a hand, and something hit Coulson's forehead. He clapped a hand to his temple, already looking around for the object. He found it on the graveled ground- Waverly's left ring, rolling to a stop. He looked back up as Waverly withdrew her throwing arm, a shocked expression on her face. He grimaced.

"I would hope that's the only thing you throw at me to determine my existence."

Waverly stepped backwards, emotions flickering across her face in a whirling crisis.

"I-" she stuttered. "I-"

The woman behind her cleared her throat."'I'm glad you're not dead,' perhaps?"

Once again, Waverly spun in a blur, thrusting her package at the lady like an accusing finger. "You planned this!"

"And you thought I was unhelpful."

Waverly's eyes flared, her mouth opening in outrage. In response, the woman twirled her finger with a pointed look.

"Someone still wants to talk to you, Waverly East."

The girl paused. Finally, stiffly, she turned around, her gaze fixed at her hands. Only with her 180° complete did she lift her chin.

Coulson grabbed his chance. "Waverly," he started, "I did die during the Battle of Manhattan. But only for a little while. They saved me, and sent me away to heal. It took months for me to get back on my feet and by the time I did, Fury had found my video. He found out. But I never meant to leave you alone." Waverly stood silent, eyes burning into nothing. Coulson couldn't think of anything else to do but continue. "By the time I got back, Fury was already set on testing your abilities."

"Why did you make the video?" She interrupted, voice tense.

Without hesitation, Coulson answered, "I didn't want you to be on your own."

No one moved. After a taut second, Waverly shifted barely an inch, just enough to look at Coulson face-to-face. This time, he couldn't read her expression.

"I would have been fine."

With a single motion, she thrust the silver box under her arm into the hands of the woman in the coat, forcing the lady to grab hold. One last time, she looked at Coulson, then the agents, then the woman again, her eyes a storm of emotion.

Then she dissolved without a trace.

 **AN: Et voila. Please review and tell me how you liked it, if it was good, what you thought and what you think will happen.** **And any ideas you have for the story!**

 **Have a wonderful, awesome day!**


	13. Chapter 13

As soon as Waverly left, Ward had his gun up and cocked at the woman in green. She turned her attention to him, giving him a cool once-over before shifting immediately to Coulson. A corner of her mouth twitched up, her brows arching for an overall look of satisfaction. The metallic box rested casually against her hip, held in place by a loose hand, as if it was no longer relevant.

"Well, that turned out better than I could have hoped for."

The agents exchanged glances. May tilted her head, urging Coulson forward. He coughed and straightened his suit jacket, trying to shake off all of the mixed emotions that came with reconnecting with Waverly.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we've met," he started. "Agent Phil Coulson, SHIELD."

"Tyche," the lady replied, dipping her chin.

"That doesn't ring a bell."

"No?" Her lips pursed, a sour expression flitting over her features. "I suppose I am rather lesser known. Not everyone can claim a podium and a laurel wreath for their deeds. But I thought Waverly would have mentioned me. We have met several times." Judging by her expression, 'met' would have been better off replaced with 'clashed'. Coulson barely smothered a reminiscent grin.

"I'm sorry to say you never came up, Tie- Tyche?" She nodded. "Should I know you?"

She huffed. "I thought you would have looked all of us up."

"All of who?"

Tyche stared, confusion sharpening her stance. "You do not know?"

He grimaced. "I-"

"No," she cut in, with a soft intake of breath. "I forgot. You ran out before she told you."

Coulson frowned, his mouth still open to speak. After a moment, May filled the silence.

"What do you mean, told him? Ran out of what, exactly?"

Tyche's eyes fastened on her. "Luck, Madam May." Her attention leaped back to Coulson. "I'm very glad to see it replenished. A luckless person is so pitiful. Perhaps now, you'll try not to use it all up at once?"

Coulson simply stared, mind in a whirl. One part told him to adapt and interrogate the woman. However, the vast majority of his brain was still thrown off from his and Waverly's tense reunion, and it was scrambling, making it impossible to be calm.

His agents were quiet, too, seeming reluctant to take any sort of authority over Coulson. He looked back at them and noticed that Ward's gun was still raised, though he seemed to have forgotten about it completely. He latched onto it and steadied himself, taking a deep breath.

"Ward, for God's sake, put the gun down. It's not doing anything."

The dark-haired man flinched and straightened, the gun lowering cautiously. Tyche watched, her face lit with obvious amusement, though Coulson wasn't sure why. He heaved another big breath and, letting it out, relaxed.

"Now," he directed at Tyche, "would you mind telling us what the hell we're doing here?"

"Certainly. You are here for this," she said, tapping a finger against the box under her arm. "That is your mission, given to you by your director."

May stepped forward on Coulson's right, brows drawing together. "How do you know that?"

"One of the agents in the command center was being particularly successful at online Solitaire as you were discussing it." Pursing her lips, she reached down and stroked a finger across the silvery back of one of the pigeons around her feet. "A waste of luck, perhaps, but Chia likes to watch games."

Three sets of eyes glanced at the pigeon. Ward cleared his throat, speaking for the first time. "A little bird told you?"

"My _Companion_ told me. But back to your original question- you are here for this box. It was supposed to be sent away this afternoon, and you were hoping to track it to the recipient. After that, you were to retrieve the box."

"Yes," Coulson replied carefully.

"Yes. But happily for you, I intervened. Now you already have the box, and the means for finding the recipient."

A frown reached across Coulson's lips. "What are you-?" His speech halted. "Waverly? She knows where to go?"

A thin, humorous smile lit Tyche's face for just a moment before smoothing back into expressionless calm.

"I suppose you will have to ask her to find out. That's two services for which you can thank me. And you should be grateful," Tyche continued, taking a step forward. She reached out and wrapped Coulson's hands around the silver box, moving so delicately that not one of the agents twitched toward their weapons. As she retreated again, she caught each of their gazes. "Today was your lucky day. That doesn't happen often."

She turned to leave, and May started.

"Hey, you're coming with us. We still have questions-"

Tyche clucked her tongue, looking back over her shoulder. At the sound, the pigeons still strutting on the ground took to the air. They corkscrewed around each other just in front of the agents before streaming away into the sky. By the time they had cleared, the lady had already gone.

They stood in silence. Coulson cleared his throat, and patted the box under his arm.

"Okay, back to the plane, everyone, and we'll see if Fitzsimmons can tell what's inside this thing before we open it."

"Hold on a minute," May cut in, flicking back her hair, eyes narrowed and arms crossed. "What just happened? Who were those people?"

Coulson sighed, absentmindedly tracing the flowery engravings of his cargo. "That woman, Tyche, I have no idea."

"And the girl?" Ward asked, finally putting in his two cents.

Coulson let a grin onto his face. "A very old friend."

May hmphed. Then, she frowned. "What happened to her ring?"

"What?" Coulson asked.

"Her ring," May repeated, glancing at Coulson's hands, then scanning the ground. "The one she threw at you. Where did you put it?"

"I don't have it," he replied. Both agents tensed, but Coulson felt perfectly at ease. He'd forgotten- or maybe he'd never really noticed in the first place- how Waverly's jewelry was never parted from her. She'd always had two rings. One necklace. Those boots. It had been that way for years, though he hadn't realized. Even now, after months disconnected, the presence of those items hadn't changed. And Coulson was sure that they would still be there, when he saw her again. When he saw Waverly again. Suddenly, he couldn't help grinning.

"I guess she took it with her," he told his confused agents.

 **AN: Yes, it's probably short, and yes, it's late, and yes, I'm sorry. The next one has been written, though, so hopefully it will be out soon after editing. In the meantime, please tell me what you think.**

 **Ideas on what YOU think will happen next are always welcome, as well as comments on the chapter, how it flowed, what could be improved, you know the drill:) Reviews are beautiful and help me write chapters!**

 **Also, over 100 followers! I love you guys!**

 **(Also, just a head's up, we're looking at a brand new POV next chapter. Hope you like it!)**

 **Have a great day, everyone! Have fun!**


	14. Chapter 14

Leo wasn't sure what he was expecting when he walked into the Camp Half-Blood arena. Actually, he did know- he expected an open, hard-packed dirt plain scattered with straw dummies and surrounded by stone bleachers, same as always. A few campers, maybe, working on technique in various corners. Today, though, that was not what he got.

A first glance at the white drifts made him assume that one of the Aeolus kids had experimented with weather magic. A second look, however, caused him to notice the lack of cold and a tearing sound on his right. Leo swiveled, eyebrows raised.

On the first level of the bleachers, Waverly knelt by a stack of printer paper, shredding one of the sheets like she'd been ordered to draw and quarter it. After separating it into the tiniest possible fragments, she tossed them onto a nearby heap, wiped her hands, and started crumpling the next piece.

Leo cleared his throat. Waverly looked up, expression dark.

"Now, I'm sure you have very good reasons for murdering that paper, and I'm positive I don't need to worry about this, but as the resident psychologist, I'm still going to ask why you're acting like paper's the new Satan." Leo tried a winning smile. Waverly tore her crumpled ball in half.

"I hear," she made another rip, "that this is a good stress management technique."

Leo surveyed the papered-in arena, noting with appreciation the lack of actual damage.

"I'm not arguing with its perks. But is it working?"

In response, Waverly smashed three sheets together and whipped them at the floor. She sat back on her heels with a huff.

"So, no," Leo mused. Waverly glared at the stadium wall.

Taking a chance, Leo sat down next to her, ignoring the rustle of scraps underneath him.

"What is it, Wave?"

In a blink, she was facing him, arms crossed and words flooding out.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just finding out that a dear deceased friend is actually alive and has been fine for ages, but didn't even bother to tell me because of some stupid security clearance issue in his stupid _mortal_ organization that I'm not even in!"

"Whoa." Leo blinked. "No need to drop the M-bomb."

"Shut up," she replied, although some tension faded.

Leo pursed his lips. He really wasn't the best at emotion-y things. Finally, he settled for, "I'm getting the feeling you're upset."

Waverly turned, shooting back at him, "No. Really?"

He nodded, assuming a fake, clinical air. "Yes. It's hard to spot, but I think we've caught it early. Can you tell me what brought these symptoms on?"

Waverly's face twisted. "An inopportune meeting."

"A surprise?"

"Yes."

"Ah," Leo mused, still in false doctor mode. "And you had a friendship with this surprise?

Waverly's shoulders dropped, her entire body language shifting. Leo paused, unsure what had changed.

"We were friends," Waverly whispered.

Paper crackled in the silence, and Leo looked down to see an origami frog between his fingers. With Waverly still absorbed in her thoughts, he snuck it behind him, scooting his hands under his thighs to keep them from tinkering further.

"And then…" Leo prompted.

"And then I thought he died. Not that it was a new experience, but. You know."

"Doesn't get easier," he finished. Side by side, they nodded. "So how does Part Two go?"

She chuckled humorlessly. "Part Two is his agency comes after me, another friend decides to introduce me to his chums, without my consent by the way, I get a quest from Miss Lucky Duck, and 'the surprise' isn't dead after all."

"And was that all today?"

"Pretty much."

"Yikes," Leo said, shaking his head. "Girl, I don't know what I would do with your schedule."

Waverly shot him a look. "It's not like I planned it."

"No," he responded. "But the Fates have plans for all of us, right? I'd hate to have your itinerary."

Waverly's face scrunched. "That makes me feel better."

"You're welcome," Leo said, bowing magnanimously. Then, he sighed. "Wave, I've told you before- there are a thousand things I can fix, but people aren't one of them."

She sagged back against the bleachers, hands skimming over her face and combing through her hair. With her fingers, she dragged the locks over her shoulder, twisting the ends.

"I don't expect you to do anything. It's just- Leo, you know why we work like this."

"How do you mean?" He asked, copying her slump.

"With the Mist, and influencing suggestions. You know, the anonymity. The whole reason we do it-"

"Is to keep _everyone_ safe."

She nodded. "Not just us. The mortals, too."

Leo grinned suddenly. "I'm picturing fighting a chimera with news vans jockeying for a good shot and asking for a pose."

Waverly snorted. "Crazy, right? But that's what some people do. And then they're in the spotlight and the world's following their every move."

"I wonder how many fangirls I would have," Leo mused.

"Absolutely none, because you're an immature wisecracker."

HIs face morphed into one of fake outrage. "Excuse me, but people love that. When me and the other Six stopped in Utah this one time, the nymphs were all over me."

"Emphasis on 'this one time'," Waverly noted. A smirking grin had finally found its way onto her lips, which Leo mentally congratulated himself on, but soon it faded to a pensive look. "Leo, the first time I knew this person, I trusted him. I watched him, analyzed what he did the times we met. I believed I could stay under the radar and still be his friend. And as for the other one, he does whatever he wants. But he would never sell someone out who helped him, and I knew that."

"What changed?" Leo asked softly. Waverly huffed, her head shaking.

"When he 'died', he left behind a video. About me. It went right to his director, and what came next but a lovely visit and a duel that I'm sure was monitored. Then today, everything else happened, and on top of that, there was- I just-"

She stopped. A hand reached up toward her hair, then dropped back to her lap with a thump.

"Anyway, I just feel like more than one ghost came back to haunt me."

Quiet filled the arena as they both sat. Leo looked at his friend. All of the angry tension had drained for the moment, leaving Waverly looking like a half-drowned puppy, lost and bedraggled and hurt. Her brow pinched, she ghosted a hand through the paper scraps on the bench beside her.

"How could he have told about me?"

Leo shook his head. "Wave, I wouldn't know. And I really don't know how to help. But here." Patting behind him, he pinched the origami frog and placed it gently on her knee. "If you ever want a custom-built comfort food dispenser, or anything else, consider this a coupon. No black-out days, no expiration."

"Thanks, Leo," she managed. She let her head fall for a moment, then straightened. Scooping the frog into one hand, she stood. "Okay. Well. I need to do something."

"About this?"

"No," she replied. "I can't do anything about this until I get my head back on."

"So, it's the rounds," Leo said. "How long are you going to take?"

"I don't know," Waverly answered. "Until I can process everything normally again. I'll come back then."

"Don't do anything rash," Leo warned. "I'd hate to lose that frog, and I really want to check out your bracelet again."

"Noted. Tell my brother 'hi' from me."

"Got it. Where are you heading first?"

"Hm." Waverly pursed her lips, squinting. "I'm feeling like going out of town. I'll head to Haven."

"Bring me a t-shirt."

At last, Leo got a real smile. As a swirl of water swept her away, she managed one last remark.

"I already got you three."

 **AN: So, did you like the new POV? Hope Waverly's after-reaction was good.**

 **Because of these events, the next chapter will be a sort of montage of what happens while she's away. We'll be checking in on a lot of people that we haven't seen in a while:) Hopefully, it won't be too long of a wait.**

 **Also, kudos to everyone who knows what Haven is and where to find it.**

 **Please leave comments and predictions. I love hearing from you guys! Plus, it's such a motivation.**

 **Have a wonderful day! Enjoy every minute, awesome people!**


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: It's been too long. I am deeply sorry. You're probably sick of hearing that. I just fell into a complete funk, helped along by my first steady job, the start of summer, and getting a big part in a play (which was actually super exciting!). Anyway, I hope you're not mad. You probably are. Please accept my deepest apologies. I feel so bad for how long this has gone without an update.**

 **Anyway, it's here now. I really hope you guys like it.**

Tony paced the floor of his suite, ignoring the footsteps of the other Avengers passing by the door. He huffed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He'd been alternatively walking and sitting for thirty minutes, antsiness keeping him from staying still. With a frustrated growl, he once again dropped onto his king-sized bed, the thin sheets crumpling.

"JARVIS, check my inbox."

The AI's voice was annoyingly unemotional. "There still has not been any word from Miss East, sir. Nothing has changed in the last thirty-two seconds."

"I hear that judgment, JARVIS," Tony said, pointing haphazardly at the ceiling. "Don't think I won't take you offline if you start sassing me."

"Of course, sir."

Tony let his arm flop down with a groan. "It's been a week. I thought she said she'd be seeing us soon."

"Upon review, sir, my observations of Miss East's definition of time have shown it to be rather unorthodox."

"You're talking about how she'll promise to show up in a week, then stop by after a day? Or disappear for a month and a half and say it was only a 'little while'?"

"Yes, sir."

"Great." Tony stared at the ceiling in silence. The blank white expanse did nothing. A few seconds passed. "Goddamnit. JARVIS, check my inbox." He shot up and began pacing again.

* * *

In the Avengers kitchen, Natasha spun a coffee mug on its rim, watching it slowly travel across the smoky marble counter. As it slowed, she plucked it up by the handle and sent it twisting back the other way, slouching forward onto her elbows.

There was something that she didn't know, about something. She couldn't pin it down to a specific cause, but an unsettled feeling had lingered in her gut for weeks now, a little nugget of dissatisfaction. She felt like she was at a store, but had forgotten what to buy. It just didn't feel right.

The mug settled and she absentmindedly flipped it onto its side, rolling it under her palm.

She cycled through their recent missions. One to Nevada, a clean job. No loose threads. Another across the sea in England. They hadn't found the disturbance, so they'd set up surveillance and left. Natasha pursed her lips thoughtfully, then shook her head. Maybe the Chile mission?

Or maybe- that unofficial meeting with the kid who beat Thor. That triggered the mental itch. The whole incident had been so incomplete, marred by a chasm of missing information. None of the girl's actions made sense. Not her immature act or her tough face, and especially not the amusement she had displayed listening to them. Natasha found herself fixedly glaring at the coffee mug, stilled under her fingers as she mentally restructured the meeting.

Steve entered the room, moving into her peripheral vision. He moved to the fridge, and dug through it. Pulling out a take-out box of Chinese, he turned. A moment passed as he looked from the mug to her cold expression.

He spoke hesitatingly. "Do you want me to make you some coffee to put in that?"

Natasha let out a breath through her nose. "No," she said, releasing the mug. Heading around the counter, she bumped Steve out of the way and dropped the unused cup in the sink.

* * *

"Sir?"

"Yes, Agent Hill," Fury replied, reclining in his dark leather chair. Maria had snapped to attention as soon as she'd entered, standing ramrod straight in the middle of his sparsely furnished Triskelion office. The dark black of her jumpsuit contrasted sharply with the neutral gray, plated walls.

"I have an update on Op 411E."

"Yes, Hill?"

The agent took a quick step forward, slipping an embossed folder onto his desk. Nudging it toward him, she snapped back to her starting pose. Fury dragged the report off the desk. He flipped it open and ran a finger down the page, then peeled it back to read the one underneath. Accompanied by a gratified grunt, the folder was slipped into Fury's trench coat.

"Took it long enough. And they're sure it's ready?"

Hill nodded sharply. "Beyond a doubt, sir. It's functioned perfectly in the beta tests, and the volunteers confirmed effectiveness. They're itching to go."

"Good." Fury eased back in his seat, fingers steepled. "Start running her image through Stark's new LookOut Program."

"Not the old facial recognition software?" Hill asked. Fury shook his head.

"I want her found ASAP. Use the new one."

"Yes, sir." Hill spun and strode out the door.

After hearing the click of the lock, Fury crossed his arms in thought, feeling the folder crinkle at his side. He patted it, then nodded, satisfied. He was sure it couldn't hurt. After all, he just needed to see how hard the cannon could fire. The extent of her abilities. Especially since he'd received a phone call from Agent May mentioning a girl that dissolved into thin air.

Waverly East was slippery. That called for interesting measures. Innovation. Finally, after that unfortunate delay, they were ready.

Now, to find her.

* * *

Waverly sat under a rocky shelf, the craggy tendrils of a coral reef twisting in the water around her. Blue, orange, and red fingers crowded the area, and one pale, stubborn curl scratched against her side. Blonde wisps floated against her cheek. Her shoulders hunched, back bent forward, she stared fixedly at the chalk-colored stone. A crab picked its way from one end to the other. An eddy passed, and the fabric of her tank top rippled.

Waverly straightened, ignoring the poke of the coral. With the slowed motions of a person on the moon, she tapped the center of her bracelet, a plain silver band. A feminine, mechanical voice filtered from the device, tinny and warped in the water.

"Yes, Waverly East?"

"JOY, is there anywhere I missed?" she asked, still resolutely watching the rock in front of her.

The bracelet whirred for a moment, then responded, "No, Waverly East. All of the destinations catalogued under the title of 'the Rounds' have been visited. Is there another destination you would like to add?"

"No," she answered. Her expression soured slightly. "Figures. The one time I need to be distracted, things are quiet."

"If you are interested, Waverly East, there are seventy-two messages from Tony Stark in your inbox. As well as a twelve-minute-long voicemail."

Waverly sighed. Around her, a ring of water rippled outward and faded.

"What are they about?" she asked.

"The main question seems to be the exact date and time of a meeting you were to have with him and his friends."

"What?" Waverly asked, eyes sharpening.

"The first message was sent from Mount Lafayette in New Hampshire, as a reply to a text you sent two minutes earlier. Would you like me to read the original message?"  
"No," Waverly said, a memory striking. Mount Lafayette- and the Avengers. Oh, gods, she'd forgotten. And she _had_ promised them another conversation. "How long ago was that?"

"Twenty-six days ago," JOY replied.

"Oh, holy _gods_." Waverly started to rise, then froze. "Wait, JOY, did Fury have a hand in making the Avengers?"

The bracelet clicked and buzzed before answering. "Yes, Waverly East. It was his initiative."

Waverly slumped back onto her seat. _Fury… the Avengers… SHIELD._ Involuntarily, her hand clenched. A second shock wave radiated across the coral. With no distractions, thoughts spun and slammed through her brain.

How- Why did they do this? Tony, Fury- what was the point in trying to integrate her in that spotlight team? Publicity and destruction and speeches to civilians. Why had Tony even agreed to approach her? He'd known her boundaries. He'd known, just like-

As for Fury testing her powers that could only be curiosity. And after he'd promised to leave her alone… Waverly snorted. It was just like a spymaster, no matter what organization. They couldn't just live and let live. Now, well. There were way too many grown-ups involved now. Scratch that- too many grown-ups who thought they knew best. Gods, she hated those.

Of course, if what Tony had told her was true, the Avengers weren't the most mature team. Or functional. And he had sworn that they wouldn't go to SHIELD about her.

Something inside her twisted. Waverly had always associated SHIELD with Coulson. The first agent she'd seen, the only one she'd actually met. Now, what did it even mean? What did he mean? She could hardly think of him as a friend. Friends didn't leave videos as a posthumous betrayal.

But to use that as a reason to break _her_ promise to visit and talk, that would just be hypocrisy. And this was Tony. If she backed out, he would never let it go. He might even try to find her.

The water thickened and swirled as her nails pinched the skin of her palm. Silt dulled the vibrant hues of the coral. Tendrils leaned in the current, creaking.

At last, Waverly shook out her hair and groaned. "JOY," she asked. "Why do I make friends?"

 **Review please! And thank you to those who did review last chapter. You gave me the kick to post this!**


	16. Chapter 16

The stupefied looks on the Avengers' faces put a special warmth in Waverly's heart. Of course, they had a right to be surprised. Usually a talk-it-out meeting happened within a week. But it had taken quite a while to even return to New York, much less enter the giant Avengers building. Even so, she honestly hadn't meant for a month to go by. It had just slipped away.

Still, she couldn't regret it watching the Avengers sputter. Maybe it felt invasive to them, to walk in to her on their couch, boots on the cushions. But how else could she have gotten such wonderful reactions?

Waverly grinned, studying each expression. Thor seemed to be struggling with an intimidating glare while the Black Widow just blinked and narrowed her eyes. Captain America had a concerned, wary look to him and Bruce Banner just seemed bemused. Hawkeye had schooled his features into a stoic mask, though a creased brow betrayed his frustration. And Tony- he was the best. She could hardly name all the emotions racing across his features, but fury, relief, and humor appeared repeatedly. The quick changes reminded her of a stop-motion animation film.

The team had obviously just returned from a mission. Their uniforms were striped with dust and clay, the sturdy leathers and metal scratched and scuffed. Altogether, it wasn't their most awe-inspiring entrance.

Tony took one look at Waverly's boots and their chosen footrest and aimed a repulsor, facemask flipping down.

"Feet off the couch," he grated.

Waverly raised her hands in surrender, sliding to a proper sitting position. Her boots now consigned to the carpet, Tony dropped his hand and started removing his suit. The other Avengers followed suit, sending her wary glances.

Soon, though, they settled into an after-mission routine. Natasha, Clint and Steve, the seasoned soldiers, dropped weapons and vests into cabinets and onto shelves. Clint's bow and Steve's shield were each carefully fitted onto their own custom holders. Bruce Banner popped open the top of an ottoman, pulling out a folded, collared shirt and a set of socks. Thor, evidently quite at ease in his armor even when sweaty, dropped Mjolnir on the floor and made himself at home in one of the tower's cushy armchairs.

One by one, the Avengers settled, finding seats among the sofas and avoiding the hammer with practiced airs.

"First things first," Waverly said. "I have a request."

Steve answered, apparently the go-to spokesman. "What is it?"

Waverly crossed her arms, locking eyes with each wary person. "I won't be interrogated or ganged-up on. You want to talk to me, alright. But we're making this casual."

Tony sighed in relief. "Oh, fabulous. I'll order the pizza."

* * *

"Nearly a month and only now do you show up on our doorstep. Either you forgot about us or you need something," Steve mused, balancing a paper plate on his knee.

"Given the publicity we're getting, I'd say it's the latter," Natasha added.

"That's a bit big-headed, don't you think? I mean, you're assuming you were at the top of my priority list." Waverly replied, taking a moment to wind some extra cheese around her finger and drop it in her mouth.

The Avengers exchanged looks. "And we weren't?" Natasha asked.

"Mm, no. Not even the top thirty."

Perched on the corner of a couch, Clint scoffed. "Thanks."

"No hard feelings," Waverly told him. Her lips pursed. "But something came up."

"Well, you're here now. So, tell us, who are you?" Steve redirected the conversation.

She smiled at them around a bite of crust. "I'm Waverly East."

"And who is Waverly East?"

"Me," she said, eyes glinting.

"Descriptive," Natasha noted, cross-legged by a side table.

Thor cupped his chin in one hand, pointing a slice of Hawaiian at her with the other. "Where do you hail from? How did you come to be such a formidable warrior?"

"You jealous?" she shot back. He spluttered, puffing up his chest. She waved a hand to calm him down. "I'm originally from New England. And, let's just say that family get-togethers call for unusual measures. Especially with my dad's side."

Clint huffed again. "What, are they a part of the Mafia or something?"

"Something like that." Across from her, Natasha tensed, then stiffened. Waverly couldn't blame her, suddenly experiencing the same throwback sensation. A flash to an office building years ago. Two agents and a room of fallen workers. One of the agents- Coulson. The other a redheaded woman. _Tell me honestly,_ she thought. _What are the chances?_ She hurried to fill the pause. "They're a tough crowd. And petty. Very petty. You have to be prepared."

"Hey, you said 'especially your dad's side'. What about your mom's side?" Bruce asked, hunching forward as if to physically enter the conversation.

Waverly almost bit her tongue. "Right," she said after a moment. "Them." The paper plate creaked as she twisted it between her fingers. She let go casually. Of course, the Avengers were made up of some very highly trained and intelligent operatives. She could feel their eyes like a flock of falcons spotting a shrew. "I suppose they're a good reason to be prepared, too. I only met them once, but, well. We didn't exactly all mesh. They have a slightly different world view."

"Oh, really?" Steve asked. The Avengers all slowly tilted forward in their seats. Tony watched her fixedly, an especially interested light in his eyes.

Waverly struggled to find a good explanation. "Just, they're a bit too set in their ways. Most of them enjoy their traditions too much to accept changes. Plus, they live pretty far away. By the time I met them, I was already an outsider. It wasn't a huge disappointment."

Silence. Bruce hummed in thought. Tony had cocked his head like a robot analyzing new input. Natasha and Clint just stared, foreheads crinkled.

Waverly ached to hear an alert from her bracelet, but none came. She'd forgotten how terribly hard it was to meet new people. Her friends in the Rounds had known her for months, at least, enough for her to relax and enjoy the company. Of course, they were mostly around her own age. No worrying about perceived authority and parent-style concern. _No wonder there are only teens at camp. How do the Romans deal with a whole city of adults?_ Not to say that all adults were bad. But, the gods and monsters weren't shining examples. _Enough about me._ "So, what about you guys?"

"How did we become incredible superheroes, you mean?" Tony raised a brow.

"Yes, that."

The billionaire pointed around the circle. "Steve, experiment. Bruce, experiment. Clint, government spy. Natasha, government spy. Thor, born that way, with, I swear, Asgardian steroids. Me, eye-opening experience in a war-torn country, plus natural brilliance."

Waverly hummed, biting down on her pizza. Over the slice, she spied Natasha squinting at her, chin jutting forward in thought. She glared, shifting away just slightly.

Maybe this had gone on too long. At least for a first visit. Or second? Either way, she had an itch to leave, and she meant to obey it.

The Avengers saw the shift.

"You're leaving," Clint stated, his sour expression mirrored throughout the room.

"Really?" Tony caught her gaze, eyes pleading. "Now?"

"Yes," she said, shooting a look back at him. "I'll be back sometime, probably."

She got up, dropping her plate on a coffee table. She nodded to the squad of heroes, took a breath, and prepared to dissolve. Her eyes met Tony's one last time.

"Wait."

Waverly stopped, forehead crinkling at the look on her friend's face. Determined, definite, set on something. A spark of smugness?

"One more thing." The billionaire's eyes were sharp and stubborn.

"Yes?" Waverly asked.

"You have to start coming by for lunch again. Pepper's been worried sick about you."

There was a sudden beat of silence as Waverly's heart dropped. The Avengers' eyes widened.

"You two know each other?" Bruce gaped.

" _Tony_! You- you are the most impossible person I have ever met!"

"Why thank you, Waverly." He sat back, grinning with self-satisfaction.

"It wasn't a compliment!" She shrieked.

"Oh, come on. We both know that was a compliment."

 _Freaking. Adults._ _With delusions of authority._

The teen jabbed a finger at Tony. "Stark, you son of a stunted, gassy-"

"Waverly," he drew out her name.

"Stark," she mimicked. "What did I say? I told you a thousand times not to tell them. This is a blatant disregard of my wishes!"

"When have I ever listened to anyone's wishes?"

"That's it!" Waverly's face turned scarlet, blood racing hot. She bored holes in the floor and silently tapped down the awareness of pressure building in the nearby kitchen's pipe system. First Fury. Then the shadow. _Him_ , and now- Waverly felt her heartbeat like a straining engine. Anger surged. Then, right in the middle of her snap, Waverly reached a stage of adrenalin-induced clarity.

And suddenly, she could almost laugh. She flashed back to a man about to pop over a borrowed prototype, furiously denying blame over a lab explosion. An adult willing to have some fun.

Maybe a month of away-time hadn't done anything. And yes- Coulson was alive. He'd lied. But no matter what the covers looked like, no two books were the same. Waverly looked at the Avengers, and decided. _You can't have too many good friends._ So she crossed her arms, fixed a stern look on her face, and told the billionaire, "You are not getting a Christmas present this year."

Tony pretended to gasp, looking incredibly pleased. "You wouldn't."

"Just try me, you sneaky little-"

"You two know each other?" Steve yelped. They looked over.

"Absolutely," Tony grinned, looping an arm over the blonde teen's shoulder. Waverly glared at him. Her blood kept racing, but the stress had somehow lessened.

"Ratbag."

"We're friends."

"Yes, we are." She narrowed her eyes in fake warning. "For now."

"Wait, wait, wait," Bruce cut in, shaking his head. "How and when did that happen?"

Tony glanced down, giving Waverly the chance to respond. She raised her brows. With a shrug, he answered.

"We ran into each other in Texas. This girl saved me from a pack of wild fans, and she's been stopping by ever since to make sure I'm alive."

"Just like that?"

Waverly nodded at Bruce. "I make friends easily." They stared at her. "As long as they're not authority figures. Or grown-ups. You know, governments, watch lists. Way too easy to get tangled up."

"But- Tony," Steve said, scrunching his eyebrows.

"Seriously, Cap? You're really classifying me as a grown-up?"

"Mm. True," Clint mused.

"If you two are friends, what's with the distant, tight-lipped thing? Didn't Tony tell you that you could trust us?"

Waverly shook her head at the Captain. "Honestly, you would not believe the messes I've been in. That I am in. It's really for safety."

"You're a teenage girl," Natasha noted, brow cocked.

"Says the Black Widow, baby. I'm only alive because of anonymity. Too many people messing in my business causes problems." She heaved a deep sigh, shooting a knife-sharp glare at Tony. "Something that Mr. Stark here knew I wanted to avoid."

"Wow," Tony noted, unconcerned. "Pulling out the Mr. Stark? You really are angry."

" _No_. You think?"

"Look," Steve cut through the snark with a placating hand. "That was a bombshell. But let's calm down. How about we all just take a breather and talk now that the cards are on the table?"

Waverly pulled her gaze up to look at the Avengers, emotions twisting in her stomach. It really was hard to make new friends. But Ares did have a point. Eat bitter, taste sweet.

She sat back onto the couch and purposefully swung her boots up on the cushions.

"Fine. We'll have a breather. And we'll talk."

* * *

Another minor mission had just wrapped up, and Coulson had released the team after an extensive debrief. Fitz muttered as he descended the spiral stairs to his lab, holding the railing against the jolting of their plane leaving ground. Clenched in his other fist was a crowbar. A very heavy, reinforced steel crowbar.

Fitz was utterly fed up with that silver box. He supposed that his hope of just flipping up the lid had been a bit of a daydream, and in any case unprofessional considering that preliminary tests had revealed an almost unbelievable amount of concentrated energy inside the metal case. However, the trouble it was taking to open the thing was just embarrassing. No box, however fancy, should take a month to crack. He wondered if there was a locking mechanism keeping it shut tight, but he had already done scans, and there was nothing. Just a fancy lid that refused to budge.

The curly-haired scientist stepped off the stair and faced the glass doors of the lab. Shifting his grip, Fitz let the crowbar fall into his other hand with a smack. Even if it failed to open the box, maybe the effort would blow off some of his frustration.

The clear doors glided apart as Fitz approached. He hurried through them, heading straight to the counter with the silver box. Then, catching sight of the clean, stainless counter-top, he sighed.

"Why does Simmons always have to move things?" he muttered. Dropping the crowbar with a thump, he started a methodical, practiced sweep of the room.

Twelve minutes later, he found himself standing above the crowbar again. Fitz glanced around, confused. He tapped his chin. Looked under the crowbar.

Then, his eyes flew wide.

Fitz ran, stumbling, back up the stairs, calling for the team.

 **AN: Holy freaking cow, this should not have taken this long. I am so incredibly sorry, and I hope it's still up to par. All I can say is that fall of senior year is a lot more intense than I thought it would be. But you don't want to hear my excuses.**

 **I'm very sorry if you thought this story was abandoned. It is NOT, although updates may be far between (evidently, unfortunately). I will do my very best to keep going, but I will admit that support helps a lot. I don't know if anyone is still reading this, but**

 **Please Review. It helps. Very much so.**

 **It was actually a guest review that made this update happen, so shout out to you, Supergirl! Thank you for the small, but vital push!**

 **Have a great day, people, and let me know about your thoughts and dreams for this story.**


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